


I'll Find You When The Sun Goes Black

by throwupsparkles



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Multi, Muteness, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwupsparkles/pseuds/throwupsparkles
Summary: “Hi, I’m--”“I really don’t give a shit,” Mr. Iero says, looking up.“Um,” Gerard stammers, dropping his hand when he realizes he’s still awkwardly holding it out.“Sit over there,” Mr. Iero says, pointing at the other end of the large round table that’s positioned in the middle of the room.Gerard hesitates until Mr. Iero quirks an eyebrow and then he hurries to the chair at the end of the table. “Don’t talk to me,” Mr. Iero continues, “and we’ll have no problems.”********A Killjoy Origin story.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Grant Morrison/Gerard Way, Grant Morrison/Gerard Way
Comments: 269
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I never thought I'd write a killjoy fic. I like them, but the world is just so big and difficult to wrap my head around. But then I started playing around with an inkling of an idea, I had some scenes written out of how I saw these characters in the aftermath of the Helium Wars. AND THEN I had started exploring the idea that maybe Korse isn't the bad guy we all know. So this domino sequence resulted in me sitting in my room for two days, writing notes of this world that turned into an 11K worded outline. This is the result of my craziness. 
> 
> I hope you stick around.
> 
> (Also, tags for DD are confusing since everyone has two names. I changed the relationship tags to their original names so that it's easier to find. Grant is referred to as Korse throughout the fic though.)

Gerard lights a cigarette and stares hard at the bright red image plastered against the side of an apartment building. 

It’s crudely drawn with shaky form, and Gerard smiles to himself because he can’t help but critique art even though he hasn’t been in an art class for years now. The image is blurry from moving the spray paint can too quickly, but he makes out a pill with a circle around it and then an X under it. He wonders what it means, though the kids who graffiti out of defiance usually don’t really care what they’re saying, just that they’re saying something. Rebelling. Being kids, and Gerard’s heart clenches because he can remember when that was him. When he used to be angry, and he wasn’t even sure what he had been so angry about. The kids here have every reason to be angry, it’s a hard time to be a teenager.

He walks down the street and nods politely at people who pass him by, everyone dressed in muted colors, nothing too bright and offensive. There’s no room for individuality, being yourself is dangerous these days. And Gerard would have disagreed, but the kids who were graffiting the buildings were too young to remember the Helium Wars or even what life was like before the bombs dropped. 

Gerard’s not really sure if it’s better now, living in Battery City compared to what the world had been. It’s a different kind of existence. Gerard remembers how out of control the world had gotten. How the economy crashed time and time again. The social unrest, how even the police, the  _ fucking police _ , were killing citizens. The crime rate was at an all time high and to top it off, the Earth was dying. There were wildfires coating the country, earthquakes splitting cities, droughts in one area and floods in the other. The world really felt like it was ending and Gerard had all but locked himself away in his art to escape it all. That, or he’d drown himself in a bottle of booze or pills. 

But then the bombs dropped. 

And things just erupted into chaos. Gerard’s not even sure what happened, doesn’t remember the timeline of things or specifics, just that half the world’s population was wiped out. And then the other half started fighting each other. And Gerard doesn’t even know what they were fighting for, who they were fighting. The news stations had gone off air, there were no radio signals, no one left to write newspapers or online blogs. It was like the Earth stopped spinning and held its breath while every living thing battled it out. 

They had to bring back the draft since so many people had died in the first wave of the bombs, anyone above the age of eighteen had to enlist to fight in the Helium Wars. Well, unless they were the sole guardian of a minor. Gerard and Mikey’s parents sent Mikey to live with Gerard. And then they never came back home. 

Gerard tosses his spent cigarette and stares up at BL/ind headquarters. It’s a collection of tall and sleek towers that hold the entire heart of the city. BL/ind runs everything, they were the ones to pull together Battery City out of the ashes. And it was better, at least from being in the middle of a seemingly never ending wars. They rebuilt the city and created a society that thrived off order. It was hard to adjust at first, the bland tasting food and the way everything seemed just a bit too dim. How new laws were rolled out, silly things like no access to music or art. Gerard’s career path had ceased to exist completely, and when they rebuilt the city there were no such things as museums or concert venues. The radios in people’s cars and homes only played BL/ind news on repeat and the television was scrubbed clean of any program that existed before the wars. Now only programs that pushed BL/ind’s agenda were permitted to play, that or the news. 

Mikey got a job right away as an assistant in the mailroom, and Gerard could understand why. Mikey had always bottled everything in, and he knew that he was terrified of their new world and didn’t understand it. And when Mikey got upset, he distracted himself. Made himself get out of bed and carry out each day because that was all he could really do. Mikey was never someone to just roll over and let things wallow. 

Gerard had though. When art was scrubbed clean from the city, he didn’t know what to do or what he had to offer anyone. He felt hopeless and worse, he felt  _ useless _ . Even in the midst of his addictions, he still created. He still produced products to release into the world. He had created works that he sold on commission or had hung up in art galleries in the city. Fuck, he misses being in an art gallery drinking shitty white wine and eating cheese that had sat out for a bit too long. He misses dressing in weird combinations of fabrics and shades just to seem eccentric and interesting. Misses taking home guys that stared too long and smiled shyly. 

He takes a deep breath and walks in, stopping at the all glass desk sitting in the middle of the bright white room. “Yes?” The young woman asks, her dark hair pulled tightly into a neat bun and her smile plasticy with lipstick. 

“I have an interview?” Gerard asks, then clears his throat when she doesn’t say anything. “It’s in the architect department.”

Her facial expression doesn’t change and she hands him a map, pointing to the corner of the page to “Tower C” with her sharply manicured finger. She doesn’t stop looking at him, doesn’t blink, and says, “Take the elevator to your left and go to level seventeen. Take the bridge and it will lead you to Tower C. The receptionist there will escort you to your interview.” And then she looks back at her computer and doesn’t even acknowledge him at all, like she was just a recording that had been played and now she was turned off. It was fucking creepy. 

“Um, ok,” Gerard breathes, taking the map and walking slowly to the elevators to the left. When the doors close he frowns a bit at seeing himself in the reflective surface. Everything about this place is polished and clean and he’s...not. His dress shirt that he stole from Mikey fits him weirdly and he keeps having to tug up the sleeves because they drape too long and then a few of the buttons are straining closed around his middle. And he forgot to iron it, shit. Mikey had covered his grin with his hand when Gerard tried to put on a tie, so he ended up just tossing it on the bed and shuffling out with his interview outfit. 

The doors chime softly and announce that he’s on level seventeen. He takes a tentative step out and thinks it’s sorta weird that there’s not more movement in the halls. He can hear the clanking of fingernails hitting keyboards and shuffling inside offices, but no one is talking. He hurries through the floor and makes his way to the glass encased bridge that connects the main tower to Tower C. 

He’s not afraid of heights, but something about seeing the campus from up this high up is a bit scary, that and he can see a mob of Daculoids walking in a cluster behind someone in a fancy suit. Oh. That’s Korse. Gerard’s heard about them, hell  _ everyone _ has. They’re the leader for the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ unit, the one who always goes out to the zones and protects the city from rebels. They’re a hero, and not at the same time. Gerard thinks he heard somewhere that they were impressive during the Helium Wars. Everyone in the city loves the safety and control they bring, but the city is terrified of them at the same time. Gerard’s scared of the stories, but he’s never met them to make a full opinion. 

He realizes he’s been standing there watching Korse, and pushes himself to move through the bridge. He meets the receptionist and is met with an equally robotic experience, but she gets up and has him follow her down a hall and to a conference room. There are two people seated at the end of the white table, their hands folded and their expressions blank. “Good afternoon, Gerard, shall we begin?”

Gerard sits warily and nods. “Sure.”

*

Mikey has the day off. There’s no such thing as weekends anymore, especially working for BL/ind where everything is working all the time. He’s lucky that they let the employees go home in the evenings like how it used to be. 

How it used to be. 

Mikey sort of wishes he had been younger when the bombs dropped, so he couldn’t remember what life was like before. But he had been in his junior year of high school, spending more time than he should have in clubs that he was too young for. But he was just so enamored with the music in Jersey and people started to take notice. People knew who he was and invited him to places, wanting to be his friend. And it had been so wild since he grew up being a nerdy carbon copy of Gerard, which he wouldn’t have had it any other way, but to be popular? To be surrounded by interesting people and listen to the music they made? Fuck, Mikey was sorta living his best life. 

Mikey shoves the wad of his and Gerard’s laundry into the washer and throws in the last of their laundry soap, frowning a bit when he realizes that he’s not going to get paid for another few days. They’re just going to have to make do with what they have for now. He sees a flash of color as the shirts swirl in the machine and Mikey panics, stopping the machine to pull out the bright red shirt that he thought he had hidden. Oh, no, he had been wearing it to bed the other night and it must have made its way to the basket. 

Mikey doesn’t wear it often, only when things have gotten bad in his head again. He hugs it close, feeling the water seep into the shirt he was wearing. It had lost Pete’s scent a long time ago, but he still likes to pretend he’s being hugged by him when he puts it on. 

He carries it through the apartment and lays it out on his dresser so it can dry, poking at the fading label in the center of the chest. He grins a little to himself, falling into the memory of Pete holding up the shirt to Mikey and asking, “What do you think?”   


“What’s that thing on it?” Mikey had asked. 

Pete rolled his eyes, “It’s a Batskull. Duh.”

Mikey tilted his head and...ok, yeah it looked like a bat with a heart in the middle of its body, only half the heart was in the shape of a skull. It was a large and tacky design, but Mikey sorta loved it. Only because he loved Pete. 

“Here,” Pete had murmured, coming over to pull Mikey’s shirt off. Mikey had smirked and Pete grinned, all teeth and warmth before slipping the red shirt over his head. “You can be my first model.”

Mikey had looked down to stare at the design on his chest, his nose getting a whiff of Pete’s cologne from the fabric and he smiled all doopey. “Perfect.”

Gerard had gone out west for college, having decided that he wanted to see the other coast for college instead of going to SVA like he had been planning all through high school. Mikey was sorta crushed, but Gerard tried to make up for it by calling him every week and talking to him. When the first waves of bombs dropped, his parents sent Mikey to go live with Gerard because they had been drafted. 

Mikey tries not to remember how angry he had been that day. How he didn’t understand what was going on and thought his parents were fools for going off to fight in a war they didn’t believe in, and that had been the last thing he said to them before he got into Pete’s car. 

“They just want you to be safe,” Pete had murmured, taking Mikey’s hand.    
  
“You’ll come out and visit me, right?” Mikey whispered. 

Pete had just grinned, that smile that Pete always wore that was so telling. Pete lived his life in smiles and it always tripped Mikey up that Pete was able to keep smiling after everything that had happened. He wished he had that bravery. Especially when he felt his hands shaking and the tears heating his eyes, because they were in a war. A war that no one could explain to Mikey and there was this fear in him that he couldn’t find the root for. 

Pete had kissed Mikey, long and slow until Mikey had to leave or he’d miss his plane. And they had an unspoken promise to not say goodbye, that it would jinx them or something. Instead, Pete just smiled again and whispered his name, like it was the secret to the universe. 

Mikey wishes he had said something. Anything instead of walking into the airport and never seeing Pete again. 

Mikey pulls out the towels from the dryer and carries the basket to the living room where he has the television on, just to have some noise going. He wishes there was still music, sometimes Mikey thinks he’s going to go mad with the silence. Gerard helps a lot though, he’ll hum softly just for Mikey to hear--careful that none of their nosey neighbors could hear. 

And Gerard still draws. He’ll doodle on napkins or on the backs of BL/ind pamphlets that get left at their door. He always shreds them though, scared to be found out and taken in the middle of the night. No one knows what happens to the people that go missing. Mikey tries not to think about it. Or pay attention to the hushed rumors of people getting brainwashed into Draculoids, the masks covering up old friends’ faces. 

Once though, Gerard had been drawing this spider. And it wasn’t anything too intricate, but Mikey couldn’t look away. It was like a sign or something, but he didn’t know what it was a sign for. He just knew that when Gerard got up to get a cup of coffee and came back, Mikey had stuffed the drawing into his pocket. Gerard looked at where the drawing had been, then to Mikey, but he didn’t say anything. 

He’s learned to keep things from people he loves, and he’s terrified that something will happen to Gerard. He’s all he has left. After his parents never came home to call Mikey back from California, Mikey kept calling Pete for updates. And Pete would tell him who got drafted recently, voice breaking whenever he would list one of their friends. Gerard would wrap Mikey into blankets on those nights and turn the television onto something soothing, childhood movies from when everything was safe. 

When Pete called to tell Mikey he got drafted, Mikey lost himself. Pete had been a year older, just barely eighteen and Mikey had feared Pete would get drafted, but thought maybe luck was on their side. He tried to dig up newspapers, broadcasts,  _ anything _ to let him know what was going on with Pete and the rest of his friends. But it was silent. So, so silent, until Mikey walked out of Gerard’s apartment and screamed. And screamed. Screamed until his voice broke and went hoarse. Gerard just stared from the doorway with his hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes. 

And Mikey walked back in and dissolved into the silence, never speaking another word. 

*

Gerard is still shocked that he got the job, he had thought he botched the interview. Especially when they asked why he thought he was qualified for the job and he had stuttered through an answer about how he used to draw buildings in art school? Yeah, not his finest moment. And then the interview had shifted uncomfortably into his private life.    


“Are you on the BLI Regimen?” The older man in the conference room asked. He had a receding hairline and his lips looked cracked under years of use. 

“Sorry?” Gerard had asked. 

The young woman smiled in a fake soothing fashion. Gerard did not fucking feel soothed. “The medication. Do you take our medication?” 

Gerard knew about the pills, most everyone was taking BLI Pills. People who didn’t work directly for BL/ind could get away with it, their activity not as heavily monitored, but Gerard knew that working for BL/ind meant he’d be scrutinized more. 

“I don’t think I really need it,” Gerard said softly and the woman’s smile stretched. 

“I see,” she had said softly, then started flipping through a file, “You have a history of addiction and depression, yes?”

Gerard flinched a bit, feeling naked in front of them. “Um, yeah.”

“The medication is a relief from any...distractions,” she said, “Of which, we don’t want for our employees.”

Oh, got it. Take the pill or stop wasting our time, is what she really meant. Gerard sighed, “Yeah, I’d be open to it.”

“Great,” she had said with a smile, “Report back tomorrow morning at 8:00AM.”

And then they had gotten up and Gerard scurried out of the conference room. 

Which is how he’s ended up back in front of the building, smoking and staring up at the windows. They seemed to go up forever, and he had only been on the seventeenth floor. He wonders what’s going on up higher. He bets that’s where The Director is, he’s never seen her, not even pictures. But he’s heard about her, if people thought Korse was scary, she was even worse. 

Mikey taps on his shoulder and Gerard flicks his cigarette. “Yeah, I know I’m stalling.” He looks over at Mikey and takes in his grin that’s saying,  _ go on, scaredy cat _ . Gerard shoves at him playfully and then throws an arm around his shoulders and they walk into the bare lobby together. When they get to the elevator, Gerard drops his arm from Mikey and watches him hit the bottom floor while Gerard hits the seventeenth floor. “You’re going down? You fucker, why did you get in the same elevator as me?”

Mikey just quirks an eyebrow and Gerard sighs and leans back against the wall as the doors shut. “Yeah, ok, whatever. Meet up for lunch?”

Mikey nods as the elevator starts dropping slowly. The doors ding and Mikey steps off, waving at Gerard. 

“See ya,” Gerard calls softly as Mikey disappears down the hallway. The doors shut again and then Gerard feels himself ascending. It’s been a couple years now since Mikey’s stopped talking, but it still chills him every now and then when he’s had a one sided conversation with his little brother. Well, not necessarily one sided. He’s lucky to have grown up with Mikey and developed their own nonverbal language anyway. Their friends used to get so pissed when they’d talk to each other with just eyebrow raises and grins.

So, Gerard knows how worried Mikey is all the time. It’s why Gerard finally bit the bullet and stopped trying to find work outside of BL/ind. He had done some under the counter jobs, things like painting murals of loved ones from customer's descriptions or sculpting small jewelry items that resembled those that had gotten destroyed by the bombs. It had bothered Mikey though, he was terrified Gerard would get caught, and it wasn’t like Gerard made too much money off it. It felt kinda sleazy to ask for money to make someone feel better, to have something to remember their old life by. So, Gerard found the job listing for an assistant in the architect department and submitted his application. It was sorta like art, right?

When he gets to the bridge, he walks slowly, looking through the glass to see Korse again. When he’s lingered long enough without any luck, he continues to the receptionist who smiles fakely again. “This way, please,” she says, getting up and walking the opposite direction he had gone yesterday. 

They walk down a winding hallway and he’s surprised to see that the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit is so close to them, only a few corridors down it seems. They pass some Dracs on their walk and Gerard tries not to look down or seem frightened, but his hands are sweating with anxiety. 

She finally stops in front of an opened door. 

“Mr. Iero,” she says cooly, “This is Mr. Way. You will be sharing the same workspace.” She turns back to Gerard and says, “Welcome to Better Living Industries, Mr.Way.” 

And then she turns on her heel and walks back up the hallway. 

Gerard hesitates by the door, noticing that the man in the room hasn’t looked up from his sketching. He looks about Mikey’s age, his dark hair hiding a bit of his face so it’s hard to tell. He’s got long black sleeves and his hands are covered in the same dark, thin fabric. Breathable. Gerard wonders what that’s about, but decides that maybe it’s not the most appropriate conversation for the first day. 

He steps in and holds out his hand, “Hi, I’m--”

“I really don’t give a shit,” Mr. Iero says, looking up.

Gerard flinches a little, wondering how someone that pretty could sound so ruthless. His mouth tilts up into a smirk and his big hazel eyes size Gerard up like he’s trying to decide the quickest way to knock him out. “Um,” Gerard stammers, dropping his hand when he realizes he’s still awkwardly holding it out. 

“Sit over there,” Mr. Iero says, pointing at the other end of the large round table that’s positioned in the middle of the room. 

Gerard hesitates until Mr. Iero quirks an eyebrow and then he hurries to the chair at the end of the table. “Don’t talk to me,” Mr. Iero continues, “ and we’ll have no problems.”

He goes back to his sketches and Gerard swallows thickly.

What had he gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support for this fic so far!

The first day working for BL/ind had reminded Gerard of his first day of high school. 

He didn’t know what was going on or really what he was supposed to be doing. No supervisor had come in to check in with him, so he just sat at the other end of the table and tried not to make any noise to bother Mr. Iero--Frank, he learned by looking at his name tag. He’s pretty sure he’s not going to be allowed to call him Frank anytime soon. Their workspace was a decent sized room with a large rounded table in the middle that had the option to light up, like a projector. Cabinets lined the back wall and Gerard could assume that was where most of the supplies were kept, but he was too nervous of Frank to go poking through them. 

Frank hadn’t spoken to him since warning him not to talk to him, which Gerard thought was sorta juvenile. He didn’t know what he had done to piss him off so bad, but apparently it warranted the silent treatment. Maybe Gerard had replaced a friend, or maybe Frank was so incompetent that they needed a second person to help him do his job. Whatever, Gerard wasn’t in the business of stirring the pot at work. Especially at BL/ind. 

By lunch, Gerard still hadn’t met with a supervisor and he had spent all morning counting the tiles on the ceiling or replaying  _ The Princess Bride _ in his head, because that was the movie he and Mikey had always watched when one of them was upset. 

Frank hadn’t even looked at him before he put his things away, like Gerard was going to snoop--and ok  _ maybe _ he would have. Gerard let out a long breath he hadn’t really realized he had been holding, and then got up to go meet Mikey in the lobby. 

When he had walked back up the hallway, he lingered a bit at the entrance to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit. He never really had an issue with people of authority, but there was something ominous about the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit. For one, the police were these people dressed in all white with monstrous looking masks on, like vampires. Draculoids, which Gerard thought was a fitting name, were sorta secretive. There were rumors, of course, of how one became a Draculoid--everything from them being brewed in test tubes to Dracs being people who were brainwashed. Either way, Gerard didn’t try to think about it too hard. Let’s put it this way, there wasn’t a Drauloid Academy. 

Lunch with Mikey had cheered him up a bit. Gerard told him about Frank and got to spew all the annoyances he had about the position and the fact that no one came by to tell him what the fuck he was supposed to be doing. Mikey had just nodded, eating his sandwich and occasionally touching Gerard’s wrist when he got too worked up. 

The rest of the day had been spent the same as the morning and by the time it was time to go home, Gerard thought he was going to scream. 

And it had been the same all week. 

Gerard slumps in his chair, having arrived before Frank for once and then perks up when he realizes he can probably poke around to see what’s in his workspace. The cabinets hold nothing interesting, just sketching papers and measuring devices. There’s various writing utensils and erasers, the bottom cabinets are for filing and when he gets closer to where Frank sits, his heart races. He notices that there’s a padlock on one of the drawers near his desk and Gerard wonders how he’s managed to have anything secretive in this place. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gerard jumps and holds his hands up to Frank. “I was just--”

“Don’t come over to my side,” Frank bites out, dumping his bag on the table with a loud thud. “You have your space, and I have mine.”

“Ok, but I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing, no one has come by to tell me--”

“Not my problem,” Frank bites out and Gerard huffs. 

“Look, I don’t know what I did to piss you off--”

“Be here,” Frank snaps, sitting in his chair. “This was supposed to be  _ my _ office.”

Gerard peers at him and there’s a tightness in his jaw, Gerard can see a spasm in the muscle there and he wonders what the fuck has got him so worked up. But the longer Gerard glares at him, the more it’s starting to click. The way Frank’s shoulders hunch over and how he always casts twitchy looks Gerard’s way every now and then. 

“You’re hiding something,” he breathes, not realizing until too late that he’s said it out loud. 

Frank’s got him pushed up against the cabinets before Gerard can apologize or try to even  _ think _ of a bullshit excuse. “Shut the fuck up,” Frank bites out, but Gerard can see that Frank’s eyes are wide and he knows he’s just gotten a leg up. 

He squares his shoulders and tries to shove against Frank, but he’s really strong for his size. “Let me go,” Gerard says coolly. 

Frank’s eyes narrow. “Keep your ugly pointed nose out of other people’s business.”

Gerard smirks. “Let me go or I’ll scream. And I’m sure you don’t want--”

“Fine,” Frank growls, taking a step back. 

“Give me an assignment,” Gerard says in the same tone, “I know you’ve been hoarding them all.”

Frank storms over to his part of the workspace and grabs a stack of papers before throwing it towards Gerard’s chair. “Happy?”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Ecstatic.”

Most of the projects that are given to Frank and Gerard are fucking boring. Gerard doesn’t know why he was under the impression that he’d have some sort of creative outlet here, but he thought it would scratch that artist itch at least a little. All the buildings in Battery City are pretty much the same, so Gerard ends up doing the same thing day in and day out. 

Frank hardly speaks to him, which is whatever. Gerard is used to the silence at this point. Mikey hasn’t spoken a word since he lost contact with Pete and there hasn’t been any music in years. At first it had been maddening. Gerard had grown up with the comfort of sound, with the ability to drown out the cacophony of his thoughts with the dial on his Walkman. But, like everything else about their new reality, Gerard had forced himself to adjust.

But he doesn’t understand the looks Frank shoots at him, like he’s the enemy or something. And again, he doesn’t fucking understand what he’s done. 

He knows that there’s some people who never got over the war. Who are shifty and nervous of everyone around them. So maybe Frank’s like that? But it doesn’t really seem likely. The only thing that Gerard can piece together is that Frank is doing something here that he doesn’t want BL/ind to know, something that Gerard being here is jeopardizing. 

It’d be easier to handle the cold shoulder if Frank was a fucking dungeon troll or the crypt keeper, but he’s really, really not. He’s totally Gerard’s type with his grown out hair falling into his eyes, his delicate features and the way he keeps licking at his bottom lip--which Gerard’s noticed from his “secretive” ogling, has a scar in place of a past piercing. If they had met anywhere else, Gerard would have been a goner for sure. 

But he’s learned to have a little more self-esteem over the years to know not to get mixed up with a guy who treats him like shit. Things have calmed down a little bit since Gerard let Frank know he was on to him, whatever that means. But just the inkling of a threat was enough for Frank to turn down the hostility a bit. Only a little bit. Which is why it sorta weirds him out when Frank’s eyes glue to Gerard’s when the robotic receptionist shows up in their doorway one day. 

“Um, yes?” Gerard squeaks. 

“They’re ready for you, Mr. Way,” she says in her melodic voice. 

Frank’s eyes drift down to his desk and he bites his lip, his hand gripping the pencil a little too tight. 

“O-ok,” Gerard stammers, raising out of his seat. 

Frank looks back up and he looks almost soft, like a scared child. Like he doesn’t want Gerard to go and it’s sorta fucking with him. 

“I’ll be right back,” he tells Frank slowly, like he’s trying to calm him down, but he doesn’t really know from what. And he’s not sure who “they” are and what they’re ready for. He’s not sure what goes on the majority of the time around here, but he’s learned to just go with the flow and not to question anything. 

Frank just shrugs his tense shoulders and goes back to drawing. 

Gerard stares at him like  _ tell me what they’re going to do _ , but Frank doesn’t look back up so he follows the receptionist out of the room. They go back up the hallway and when they approach the bridge, Gerard sorta forgets to breathe. 

Because he’s there. 

He almost seems smaller in person. Korse is being followed by three Dracs and he feels that sense of dread again, but his eyes flicker back over to Korse and he feels...soothed almost. Their face is passive, no harsh emotion like Gerard would have expected from someone who was the leader of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. And maybe that should have freaked Gerard out more, the complete lack of emotion. That is until Korse catches Gerard’s stare and raises an eyebrow questioningly. 

Gerard feels his cheeks heat and he looks down at the floor, at his dirty sneakers against the stark white tilted floor. He feels them walk past, feels the brush of Korse’s jacket against his arm and he shivers. 

He doesn’t look back up until they reach the elevators and he’s taken higher up Tower A. He catches a view out the window and he has to take a deep breath at how high up they are. It reminds him of Olympus a little bit. This high up in the clouds, it’s easy to think that they’re Gods or something. 

He’s brought to an exam room and Gerard hesitates by the door, but there’s a woman, presumably the doctor, waiting for him and she gestures to the exam table, “Please.”

Gerard steps in and frowns when the receptionist quickly turns and leaves. She wasn’t much of a partner, but he felt a little bit better having her there while in this place. But he hoists himself up on the exam table a little clumsily and he feels his cheeks go red again as he situates himself to a seated position on the table. He really doesn’t fit in here, and he’s sure it’s painfully obvious to everyone. 

“Mr. Way,” the doctor says, picking up a folder from the desk she’s sitting at. She scans through it, showing no emotion and he wonders what it says. How could they have all this information on him already? He’s pretty sure none of the hospitals and treatment facilities he went to before the wars were still standing, there shouldn’t be a record of his medical history. And, he thinks a little on edge, why the hell does his place of work care about his mental health history? What right did they have to scrutinize him and push treatment on him? 

“History of depression and addiction,” she muses, “Are--”

“I don’t really have an issue anymore now,” Gerard interrupts. And it’s mostly true, sure he has some bad days where it feels like his feet are stuck to the ground. But, he’s pretty sure that everyone is a little depressed, especially after everything they’ve been through with the war and sudden change of government. And he had gotten clean when the bombs dropped and Mikey came to live with him, because Mikey was more important than a bottle of booze and temporary ignorant bliss. 

“I see,” she says softly, flipping through more pages, “You’ve relapsed before. With your addiction, yes?”

Gerard shifts uncomfortably. Yeah, he had gotten clean a bit ago when things got really out of hand in college. He could see how much it was ruining him and his chances at being someone, and he didn’t want to fuck that up. He quit cold turkey and separated himself from the crowd that he ran with, and it had sucked because they took it pretty personally. “Uh, yeah,” he says finally, “I mean, things got kinda shitty in the world.”

She smiles and nods. “I understand. Is that how you normally handle stress?”

Gerard frowns. “No, not anymore.”

She doesn’t look convinced and just flips through more papers. “And your depression?”

“It comes and goes?” Gerard tries weakly. 

The folder gets set back down neatly on a stack with the others on her desk. She stands and brushes her hands down her skirt. “One moment,” she says, walking out of the room. 

Gerard frowns and leans over to see her walking down the hallway before getting up to quickly snatch his file and scan it. He’s sick with how much is in here, how detailed it is. It has everything about his life, down to what elementary school he went to and who his teachers were. There’s a scanned form of the child behaviorist he saw when one of his teachers referred him after he got caught drawing zombies eating his classmates. There’s his high school report card and the various intake forms from the different clinics he had been to throughout his adolescence, jumping from one therapist to another when his depression had gotten out of hand. His college transcripts and the application he sent to Barnes and Noble where he worked part time through school. Notes from that shitty doctor he talked to at the rehab center. A police report of his drunk and disorderly arrest just before the bombs dropped. 

He hears clicking of heels getting closer and he shuts it quickly before setting it back where he found it. He struggles back on the table and crosses his arms right as the doctor walks back in. She’s carrying a small pill bottle and holds it out to Gerard. 

He reaches out tentatively and stares at the label. There’s no name of the medication on the bottle, just a smiley face with “BLI” underneath it. He swallows thickly and looks up at her. “I don’t…”

“It’s in your best interest to start your medication as soon as possible,” she says with an eerie smile, and Gerard can’t help but feel the threat deep in his bones. And he wonders if there’s more at stake than just his job. 

It’s enough though, so he stands and says, “Thanks.”

“Have a better day, Mr. Way,” she says in a toneless voice, before turning back to her files and Gerard knows he’s been dismissed. 

He walks slowly down the halls and to the elevator, pushing the number seventeen in a daze as he keeps finding himself staring at the pills in his hand. When he gets back to his and Frank’s workspace, Frank’s head snaps up and his eyes fix on the pill bottle in his hand. 

Gerard stares back, begging him to let him know what they’re going to do to him. If he’s on them. He’s got to be, right? If he works here, he’s probably on them too. But he doesn’t seem as robotic as everyone else here. He doesn’t talk to Gerard and he doesn’t show much emotion--except for the way he lashed out at Gerard. Except for the fear he saw in his eyes. 

“What?” Gerard presses. C _ ome on, tell me what you know. _

Frank’s face hardens and he looks at Gerard with a blank expression, practiced and careful. “Nothing,” he says in that same toneless voice that everyone fucking uses in this place, only it sounds forced. 

Gerard squeezes his hand around the bottle and takes a seat. 

*

Mikey sorta likes working in the mailroom. 

He likes that everything has a process to follow, there’s no questioning or room for interpretation. There’s a place for everything and Mikey loves getting a bin of mail and making order of it. Loves sorting it by department then employee. Likes to see his pile of envelopes get placed into neat little stacks that are rubber banded together and then placed into carts that he’ll take all around campus. He mostly delivers to Tower B, where all the communications are. He’s traded with this kid, Alex before so that he could walk around Tower C and visit Gerard at his office. 

Gerard had looked like he wanted to fuck and shoot his coworker at the same time, and it was pretty entertaining to see that wild look on Gerard’s face. He had missed that for his brother. Gerard thought he hid his distress over their new world convincingly, but Mikey knew better. That and Gerard was an open book, he’s never been great at hiding his emotions. So it’s nice to see something other than fear or longing for the life they had before written across his face. It’s relieving to see that he can still find passion in something after art left the world. 

Mikey is sorting through the new tin of mail for the morning when Alex whispers, “There’s a new supervisor.”

Mikey raises a questioning eyebrow and Alex leans in closer, “I don’t think we’re going to be seeing Great anymore.”

Mikey’s blood runs cold. He had really liked Greta, she didn’t make him talk or anything and even cracked a smile every now and then. Mikey knows about the pills they try to push on everyone, knows that he’s supposed to be taking his. But he also knows he’s not the only one who doesn’t. Alex, for example, doesn’t. He’s too twitchy to be on those things and Mikey reaches out to put a hand on his back every now and then to remind him to calm down.  _ They’re watching _ . 

They’re always watching. 

The new supervisor is a tall man with dark hair cropped short and thick framed glasses circling his beady eyes. Mikey thinks he looks like a villain from one of Gerard’s comic books and he quickly looks down when he meets Mikey’s eyes. 

“You,” he says, and Mikey knows he’s talking to him, so he looks back up. The man’s lip curls slightly and Mikey knows he’s one of those guys who likes to play with his prey before devouring it ruthlessly. “I want you to go to the medical building and bring down their shipment that needs to go out.”

Mikey nods and starts walking towards the exit. 

But his supervisor takes a step to the side and cuts off Mikey’s path. “It’s disrespectful to not answer when you’ve been spoken to.”

Mikey’s heart pounds and he feels his hands start to tremble. He’s not really sure why he stopped talking. At first he thought it was just because he had nothing to say, then he thought that maybe it was taking back the control he had lost in his world. But then, the longer he stayed quiet, the harder it was to try and talk again. 

“Come on, Mikes,” Gerard had whispered shortly after Mikey went silent. “It’s me, talk to  _ me _ at least. I need to know where your head is at.”

And Mikey had tried. He wanted to tell Gerard that he was scared. Wanted to ask him if they could build a blanket fort and hide out for a couple of days while they watched movies as a war went on outside their door. But he couldn’t get anything to come out of his mouth. Everytime he tried, his throat would tighten and his eyes would water. 

“Ok,” Gerard said soothingly, putting his hands on Mikey’s shoulders, “Hey, it’s ok. Take your time, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I asked you a question,” the man in front of him snarls. 

Mikey turns his head back to Alex, who shakes his head slowly. 

“I’m talking to you,” his supervisor continues, “Insubordination requires me to report you to S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W.”

Mikey’s head snaps back to him and he feels like he’s going to start crying.  _ No, you can’t do that or they’ll know you’re not on the pills. _

He has to talk or they’ll know something is wrong. They’ll drug him, he’ll become another zombie in this place, he’ll

“Sir,” someone says, coming into the doorway, “You’re requested in the Human Resources department.”

Mikey feels his shoulders drop and his supervisor stares at him before saying, “I’ll be back.”

As soon as he sees him disappear out of the room, he feels Alex take a step towards him. But Mikey can’t, can’t fucking handle being in this room anymore and he runs. He takes the stairs just to feel his legs burn and he finds himself in Tower B, along his usual route, before he slumps in the stairwell and starts gasping. He can’t hold the air in his lungs and it feels like his heart is trying to leap out of his chest so it can crawl away from this place too. He feels his palms slick with sweat and when he tries to grab the railing, his hand slips and he falls with his knees slamming into the edge of a stair. 

“Woah!” He hears, and then steps rushing down to where he’s laying crumpled. 

Strong arms lift him up and then he’s met with warm brown eyes and a gentle, coaxing smile. “It’s ok,” he says quietly, “hey, it’s ok.”

Mikey feels his cheeks dampen and the guy’s smile falls a little. “Let’s…” he trails off and puts an arm around Mikey’s shoulders, pulling him up the stairs and then into a small bathroom near the stairwell. He’s hiding him from any onlookers. Crying in the stairwell is just asking to get sent to the medical department. 

“Deep breathes, kid,” his rescuer says, and he feels a hand stretch out across his back. “In, out, slowly”, Mikey tries, but he’s told, “Slower,” then, “There you go, just like that. You’re doing great.”

Mikey hasn’t been talked to like this since he was a kid, when people always were careful with him. He misses that, misses being treated like he was something to be cherished instead of expendable. He hates just being a number here, just another product of the war. 

“I’m Ray,” the guy says after a while, still keeping his hand on Mikey’s back, “I work in broadcasting. I think I’ve seen you around. You’re our mail guy, right?”   


Mikey nods and tries to wipe at his face, but it doesn’t do much good with his glasses being all tear streaked and foggy. 

“Oh, here, dude, let me,” Ray says, taking Mikey’s glasses off. 

Mikey’s vision blurs and Ray is just a warm halo against the bleakness of their environment. His clothes are muted like everyone else's, but Mikey could swear he sees a tinge of red underneath his white shirt. He watches Ray’s blurry form take paper towels out of the dispenser and wipe Mikey’s glasses clean before sliding them carefully back on. “Better?”

He nods again and tries to smile, but he’s not sure if it comes out right. 

Ray stands there, hesitancy starting to leak into his body language and this is always the sucky part of meeting new people. Alex had been upfront about it, which can be nice, and asked, “You don’t talk, do you?” 

“So,” Ray says quietly, “You’re not taking them either?”

Mikey shakes his head, knowing what Ray is talking about. 

Ray sighs loudly. “Thank fuck, do you know how hard it is to talk to anyone here? Everyone I work with is on them.”

Mikey bites his lip, thinking he’s not going to be able to offer Ray the conversation he’s craving. Ray’s smile comes back and he tilts his head, and Mikey sees the red shift under his shirt. Ray must notice him looking, because his smile widens. “Oh, this?” He asks, reaching into his shirt and pulling at a chain around his neck. A red guitar pick is revealed and Mikey’s legs wobble. 

He hasn’t seen a guitar pick since the bombs. Hasn’t heard music, let alone even seen proof that music ever existed. But here it is, something so small and miniscule, but holding so much heart. Mikey reaches out and brushes his fingertips over it before realizing what he’s doing and snaps them back. 

He knows he should apologize, but he just blushes and looks away. 

“It’s fine,” Ray says, “I sorta manhandled you in here. I think we’re cool invading each other’s personal space.”

Mikey looks back up and grins. 

Ray peers at Mikey’s nametag. “Michael--” but Mikey grimances and Ray tries, “Mike?” Mikey shakes his head and he asks, “Mikey? Mikey, cool, well, you should probably head back before you get in trouble.”

Mikey feels himself tense and Ray adjusts Mikey’s crooked glasses. “Keep your head up,” Ray says, quietly. It’s not much advice, but Mikey doesn’t think there’s much advice to be given at a place like this. 

Not much anyone can really do. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support so far with this fic! I felt really out of my element when I started this, so reading your comments has been really motivating. This chapter finally opens up the plot for the fic ;)

Gerard thinks time is weird these days. 

Sometimes he thinks his days drag into a never ending void, and then other times it feels like he’s blinked and weeks have gone by. Because Gerard doesn’t realize it’s been a month until he takes the last small capsule from his pill bottle. 

Huh.

He’s not sure he’s felt any different this past month compared to when he wasn’t on it. Maybe if he thought about it hard enough, he’s been a little more mellow. The paranoia wasn’t eating at him as much and working at BL/ind didn’t feel quite so daunting. Even working with Frank had been doable these last few weeks. And the more Gerard tries to think about it, the more he wonders if Frank really has gotten used to him or if the pills are just suppressing the uncomfortableness Gerard had been feeling when he first started. 

But things are going fine, good even. With Gerard’s paycheck combined with Mikey’s, they’re able to get more from the grocery store than Pop Tarts and canned beans. Gerard never thought he’d say this, but he really misses vegetables. After the bombs, there wasn’t any farming left. Not even BL/ind could whip up some genetically grown tomatoes in their labs, there were no seeds to start from. No lingering DNA. It’s pitiful, but Gerard’s cried a couple times remembering the strawberry shortcakes his mom used to make on his birthday. He misses fresh food, misses the way the fruit would leave sweet nectar on his lips and he misses the crunch of vegetables. 

But they’re able to get the good kind of coffee instead of the instant kind, and the bright smile that appeared on Mikey’s face when Gerard put the tin into their shopping cart solidified that he was doing the right thing by working for BLI/ind and taking the pills.

It’s the break that Gerard’s been waiting for, ever since Mikey first came out to his apartment when the war first broke out. It had been a strange time of adjustment. Gerard had been happy to see his brother again, but he also couldn’t help but feel terrified by what was happening outside the apartment. 

Gerard still remembers the sound of explosions at night, still remembers the smell of the gases leaking into the apartment even though they had all the windows sealed shut. They were never evacuated, because there was nowhere to go. The whole country was under the same fire, and it drove Gerard mad because he couldn’t make sense of any of it. Who was fighting who? What was the point of all of this? 

Mikey had these awful nightmares when he managed to sleep, and it tore Gerard apart when he heard his little brother scream himself awake. Those nights found Gerard kneeling beside Mikey’s bed, soothing his fingers over Mikey’s racing pulse and speaking softly to him. He told him lies that would coax him back to sleep, told him that the war would stop and things would go back to normal. Told him that they were safe here and the bombs wouldn’t get them, that they weren’t aiming for residential areas. He’s not sure if Mikey believed him, but he always fell back to sleep.

A knock pulls Gerard out of his memories and he blinks, frowning because he doesn’t even remember getting to work today. He looks down and doesn’t remember the sketch of a pharmacy that’s under his hand holding a pencil. But the confusion doesn’t really set in, not really and it just leaves Gerard feeling like he’s floating aimlessly. 

That is until he looks back up when he remembers someone knocked. Korse is standing there, their knuckles against the doorframe and Frank clears his throat before saying, “Yes?”

Gerard glances over at Frank, wondering if maybe he was supposed to address Korse by something a little more formal. But he takes in the defiant spark in Frank’s eyes, the slight snarl to his lips and Gerard has to hold his face composed before he grins. Because Frank looks like an angry little kitten right now. Riled up, but also terrified and he wonders how he’s gotten away with not being drugged up like everyone else in this place. Wonders how he could let himself show that flicker of rebellion in front of Korse. And maybe that’s the whole point. 

He glances back at Korse and watches them step into the office, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. Gerard feels like the room has shrank in size, like the walls came in closer to brush against Korse. Gerard can smell their cool earthy cologne and it makes Gerard want to lean in closer, wants to be like the walls and close in on them. They’re dressed sharply, various shades of grey stitched together by fabric more expensive than Gerard could ever imagine. Their eyes are dark again, the underneath purpling from lack of sleep and he can see traces of running in the zones against their pale skin. 

Gerard’s heard about the zones and how dangerous they are, how the environment is next to unlivable. He doesn’t understand a lot about the resistance, just that there are some people who live out in the zones who are threatened by Battery City, who want to destroy it. Gerard doesn’t agree with some of their methods, but he thinks BL/ind really saved them. He doesn’t know how society would have rebuilt without them, doesn’t know if there would be grocery stores and apartments with warm beds without them. It’s enough for him to understand why people like Korse are sent out there to make sure they don’t take down Battery City. 

“I have a proposition for you,” Korse says smoothly, like honey dripping from Gerard’s lips and he wets them before he even realizes it. And then he blushes when Korse’s eyes drop down to Gerard’s lips. 

“Proposition or order?” Frank challenges, and Gerard can hear the bite in the words. 

He wonders if Korse picks up on it too because although their voice holds authority, it’s polite when they say, “I had hoped you would find this project interesting enough to not have to be ordered.”

Gerard straightens in his chair as Korse darts their eyes over to Frank. Gerard watches the tension between the two of them. Frank is fighting to hold onto his defiance, to still feel in control, but he sees the way his tight shoulders soften a little. Because there is a chain of power in this room. Korse does have the authority to make their lives hell if they wanted to, has the power to forcibly make Frank and Gerard do anything they want. But they don’t, Korse doesn’t take Frank’s obedience and doesn’t fight against Frank. They just wait, just stands there with their hands held softly at their side and thier head slightly bowed like they’re trying to make themself smaller to coax Frank into trusting them. 

“What kind of project?” Frank finally breaks, his shoulders dropping all the way now. 

Korse’s lips quirk up for a brief moment, then they look at Gerard and sets down a folder between the two of them. “Everything you need to know in order to complete your task is in here,” they say, tapping their finger to the folder once, “I trust the two of you to not discuss this to anyone apart from me.”

Gerard nods, still not quite able to find his voice. It’s not fear. Gerard knows that, but he doesn’t know what to call the way Korse seems to affect him. They fascinate Gerard, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t usually get so tongue tied around interesting people. If anything, he gets more talkative to pull out everything he can from them. But with Korse, it’s like he doesn’t want to speak, to blink, or even  _ breathe _ from fear of missing out on something. 

Korse is staring hard at Gerard, like they’re waiting for Gerard to say something. And Gerard is wracking his brain for something to say, anything, and he doesn’t get his lips to shape over anything other than, “Ok.”

Korse’s eyes warm and he sees a slight crinkle around the edges, like they’re going to smile, but they just straightens themself and says, “I’ll be checking in periodically. Let me know if I can be of assistance,” and then they leave. 

With the door open again, Gerard feels like a surplus of oxygen hits his brain all at once and he’s dizzy with it. Looking at Frank, he can tell that he’s pretty affected as well. But he shakes it off quicker than Gerard and grabs the folder. 

Gerard watches as Frank’s eyes narrow and his mouth hardens into a line as he flips through the papers. He lets out a shaky breath and slides the folder over to Gerard, not meeting his eyes. 

Gerard hesitates, not sure he really wants to see what inside if it warranted that sort of expression from Frank. But he takes it and starts thumbing through the papers. At first it doesn’t look like much of anything. The first page is a collection of small sketches, of a room that has various measurements written off to the side with question marks, a few window designs with scribbles next to them saying ‘bullet proof, including rayguns’--and Gerard frowns. Rayguns?

The second page starts digging more into the specifics and he can see why Frank is getting worked up the more he flips through. Whatever Korse is wanting built, it needs to be large and secluded from the rest of the city. It needs to have multiple floors, needs a bunch of small rooms pressed into each other, a high security system, a large room that has the capability to withstand large electric currents. 

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Frank asks softly, and Gerard knows it’s to keep his voice from shaking. 

Gerard glances back though the file, sorting everything and connecting the dots. And then it hits him, and he...he fucking knows that he should feel terrified. He knows that this sort of thing is exactly what Gerard had expected BL/ind to build, exactly what filled his nightmares when he made the decision to work for BL/ind. 

But he’s calm, his voice sure and steady as he answers, “It’s a prison.”

*

Mikey knows there’s something going on with Gerard, but he doesn’t really know what it is exactly.

Part of him thinks that the job is just getting to Gerard. He remembers being worked up that first month he started working at BL/ind and how it took him a bit to adjust to the feeling of being watched every minute he was in that building. And Gerard’s coworker sorta sounds like a dick, so Gerard acting closed off isn’t that surprising. 

But it doesn’t make it suck any less. 

He misses watching Gerard draw as they watch the news flicker though squeaky clean news stories illustrating how great Better Life Industries is for their society. But Gerard’s secret stash of art pens haven't been touched in weeks, and Mikey’s starting to get a bit worried. He keeps shifting the drawing of the spider that Gerard made into each of his jeans when he starts his day. He wonders if maybe he’s risking things a bit by carrying art in his pockets into work, but if Ray can sneak in a guitar pick then Mikey can sneak in a drawing. 

And it helps him feel like his brother is there to stick up for him with his supervisor hovering over him, waiting for him to mess up enough that he can send him off to S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. Alex deflects a lot of the attention, so much so that Mikey’s starting to get worried for Alex. 

When he gets into work one morning, Mikey doesn’t see Alex in his usual station next to Mikey’s. Mikey tries not to jump to conclusions right away, just keeps his eyes on the clock and wills him to get here before the shift officially starts. But then the whistle blows and the tins of mail come rolling into the mailroom. 

And Alex still isn’t here. 

Yesterday Mikey had seen Alex drumming his fingers onto the table as he waited for the next tin of mail and Mikey quickly snatched his hands up in his, darting his eyes around to see if anyone had noticed the beat Alex was playing. Alex had been breathing hard and his eyes swimmed and Mikey had recognized that wild look. It was the same one Mikey wore when the silence had gotten to Mikey too much, the same one that he still feels when he’s alone in bed and longing to feel Pete’s arms around his waist. 

Mikey had soothed his thumbs over Alex’s hands, trying to convey to him that he just needed to relax. He just needed to get through the day, to take each day at a time and not look at it all as a whole. He had taken a deep breath to tell him that, because Alex was worth the fear of speaking, but his body had other plans and squeezed his vocal cords tight. 

Alex had just smiled, but it looked mad. It looked like he was about to snap. But he hadn’t, he just turned back to his station and continued to sort mail throughout the day. And Mikey thought they had dodged a bullet. 

But he’s not here today. 

And he still isn’t here by the time Mikey leaves for lunch. 

Mikey’s waits for Gerard in the lobby to go outside to the picnic tables and have lunch with him, but he’s running late, which is weird since Gerard usually races down to the lobby once his lunch hour hits. 

He keeps his head down, only glancing up every so often to see if Gerard will walk by and after awhile, he just huffs and goes outside by himself. Gerard probably got stuck on a project or something. Mikey misses cell phones. He knows it’s stupid, but sometimes he can still feel the tiny keyboard under his thumbs. He and Pete used to text nonstop, to the point that his mom would put his phone in a drawer during dinner time. And Gerard would laugh because Mikey would choke from eating so quickly, but it was always worth it whenever he saw the message waiting for him on his screen. 

But then Gerard moved out west and then the world fucking ended. 

And Pete’s gone. 

He lights a cigarette and holds the smoke in his lungs until they start to protest. Pete hated it when Mikey smoked, he didn’t like the taste. Mikey used to carry around cherry flavored gum to chew and he feels his cheeks heat when he remembers how Pete would lean over and pop Mikey’s bubbles with his wicked lips.

“Hey, Mikey,” he hears, so he looks up and sees Ray. 

He smiles and Ray takes that as an invitation to sit next to him. He looks for the speck of red on Ray again, but he’s wearing a thicker shirt, so it’s hard to see through it. He sees the sun catch the chain around his neck though as Ray shifts to pull a soda out of his back. “You know I almost miss shitty weather?” Ray laughs, leaning back against the table. 

Battery city is encapsulated by some forcefield or whatever so that they can control the weather. Mikey’s not really sure if it’s true, but apparently out in the zones, the atmosphere is shot. All the radiation from the bombs warped the weather and clouds, to the point that it rains acid. Mikey’s heard rumors that people live out there, but he doesn’t think it could be a really long life with all the acid rain and too hot sun burning everything. 

“Seems weird to complain about though,” Ray continues, still not too weirded out that Mikey hasn’t said anything. He must realize that Mikey has a thing or something and Mikey wonders if Ray knows someone who is like Mikey, or maybe Ray is just awesome like that. “Do you remember snow? I grew up in Jersey and there used to be a shit ton in the winter, the--ow! What the hell?” Ray asks, rubbing his arm from where Mikey hit him, but his mouth twists up when he sees the huge grin on Mikey’s face. 

“What?” Ray asks. 

He’s from Jersey. No wonder why Mikey had liked him so instantly. Pete always made fun of Mikey’s love for Jersey, saying that it was unhealthy to build his entire personality around a city. But Mikey always rolled his eyes, because Pete never stopped comparing Jersey to Chicago even though he had moved years ago.

“You don’t like snow?” Ray asks and Mikey huffs. He sees Ray backtrack through what he’s said then his eyes grow wide. “No fucking way, you’re from Jersey? What are the odds?”

Small fucking city. 

“I didn’t go out much,” Ray says, “But I’m sure I’d have remembered you if I’d seen you.”

Mikey blushes and takes another drag from his cigarette. 

“I took music way too seriously,” Ray continues, getting lost in his memories before the bombs, “I used to shut myself in my room and play for hours. And it wasn’t even that I wanted to be a rockstar or whatever, I just really wanted to master the skill, you know?”

Mikey looks at the chain around his neck, wondering if the pick holds some significant meaning to Ray. Maybe it was the first one he got or maybe his significant other gave it to him. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything more than the reminder that music existed once upon a time. 

“Did you ever play anything?” Ray asks and Mikey tenses, but he’s pretty sure that Ray won’t really push him to talk if he doesn’t want to. He shrugs and wiggles his hand to mean “a little”. 

“That’s cool,” Ray says, looking at Mikey’s hands, like he’s trying to figure out what he played and Mikey lets himself smirk a little, holding onto the mystery. 

Ray tells Mikey stories throughout the rest of their lunch break. Mikey just lights another cigarette and watches the way Ray’s hands wave around in the air, holding his neon green soda and sloshing some liquid out when he gets too excited. He tells him about growing up in Jersey, how it was similar to his and Gerard’s childhood where they couldn’t go out to play. Instead of playing Dungeons and Dragons like they did, Ray learned to play guitar. He watched MTV music videos and watched how his favorite guitarists played, he looked up tabs online and even worked at an ice cream stand one summer so he could afford lessons. And he had gone to college to work in music production, but hadn’t graduated before the bombs dropped. 

He’s in broadcasting because he has experience working with the technology and he worked the studio at his school as a side gig for a bit. He’s talking about how quiet and lifeless everyone is when his eyes dart around and he lowers his voice, “hey, are you busy tonight?”

Mikey frowns and looks around, wondering what’s up with the secrecy, but he shakes his head. 

Ray smiles a little shyly and he looks down at where Mikey is holding his cigarette. “Want to come over to my place?” He asks quietly, then he shifts his eyes up to Mikey’s, “There’s something I want to show you.”

Mikey’s already nodding before Ray finishes his sentence.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s weird leaving BL/ind with someone other than Gerard. Though, Gerard’s been pretty spacy lately and it’s starting to freak Mikey out. 

When he goes up to Gerard’s office to let him know he’s going to head out with Ray, Gerard won’t look up from his sketchbook. Mikey frowns, his hand extended out in the air with the note he scribbled for Gerard. 

Gerard is surrounded by a bunch of papers and he’s sketching frantically at the one in front of him. He’s got his travel mug of coffee, though it doesn’t look like he really needs it. What he needs is sleep. Mikey’s not stupid, he knows that Gerard hasn’t been sleeping lately and the evidence is written all over Gerard’s worn face. 

Frank looks between Mikey and Gerard, then sighs and gets up to take the note from Mikey. Mikey’s seen Frank the few times he’s gone on their route for mail, but he usually hangs around Gerard and watches him draw for a bit before continuing with his mail delivery. 

“He’s sorta in the zone or something,” Frank explains softly, looking over the note, “I’ll tell him.”

Mikey smiles tightly, still looking at Gerard who won’t look up. It’s like he’s in a trance and it’s so odd that he won’t fucking look at Mikey. He’s never been ignored by his brother, and it’s just another checkmark that something is fucked. 

He looks back at Frank and sees the tightness in his face, like he’s on to something as well but he doesn’t trust Mikey yet. 

The feeling is mutual, so Mikey nods once and backs out of the room. He shuffles quickly down the hall, keeping his head down as he hurries past the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit and to the elevator. 

When he gets outside and sees Ray standing there, it feels like he can breathe again. Ray beams at him like he’s honestly surprised to see Mikey. “This way,” he says, nodding off to the side. 

Hardly anyone drives anymore in Battery City. Most people don’t even have cars because the licensing and regulations have gotten so out of hand ever since BL/ind took over. Only the wealthy have cars really, and it’s more of a symbol of status. Mikey misses driving, misses putting in a CD and driving around the city late at night with gas station slushies on his tongue.

Ray doesn’t talk much on the walk to his apartment and Mikey’s pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that everyone is listening on the streets. There’s cameras everywhere that S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W monitors and they offer rewards to anyone who gives them a tip about illicit behavior. And that includes talking about BL/ind in a negative fashion. 

So he’s relieved when they make it up the steps to Ray’s worn down apartment building that’s nestled on the outskirts of the city. Ray’s apartment is voided of color like everyone else’s and Mikey’s a little disappointed, he thought he’d see some defiant color. But he also knows there’s surprise checks by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. Gerard and Mikey’s apartment has never been raided, but he saw it happen to a neighbor down the hall. He remembers hearing the shouts and the clattering of items being thrown around, remembers seeing Mrs. Newan’s small frame shivering out in the hall as they smashed an antique looking tea kettle that was varnished yellow with small daisies painted on. 

Gerard had wrapped his hands around Mikey’s forearms and brought him inside before he was spotted. 

Mikey hasn’t seen Mrs. Newan since then. 

After Ray clicks his locks into place he turns to Mikey and asks, “Do you want something to drink? Coffee?” 

Mikey nods and Ray smiles, heading over to his small kitchen. 

Ray waits until the coffee maker starts gurgling before walking over to Mikey, his expression wary like it had been this afternoon when he asked if Mikey wanted to come over. Mikey tilts his head. 

“So what I’m going to show you is illegal,” Ray says quietly, “So if you don’t want to get involved, you should probably head back home.”

Mikey had assumed it was illegal, so he just huffs and taps his foot like he’s impatient. It makes Ray laugh, which is what he had wanted and Ray’s grim expression melts back into the smile Mikey’s come to associate with Ray. 

“Ok, wait here,” Ray says, before heading back to the rooms in the back of the apartment. 

Mikey walks into the kitchen and finds two mugs, then looks in his pantry for imitation creamer and sugar. 

He turns back around when he hears something sort of heavy being set onto the kitchen table. 

And then his eyes go wide. 

It’s a record player. But it’s not like any of the kinds that he and Gerard used to have growing up. It sorta looks like a Frankenstein creation and he reaches out to touch the mismatched pieces holding it together. 

“So,” Ray starts, “I sorta steal from broadcasting.”

Mikey’s head shoots up so Ray quickly adds, “Never a lot. Just a piece here and there from material they’re going to recycle anyway. I stockpile the parts in my apartment then build stuff with them.”

Mikey’s just now noticing the box that Ray has brought out and gets himself to sit down because his legs feel like jelly. It’s been so long since Mikey’s heard music, the news and commercials on BL/ind television channels don’t even have jingles. There’s no music anywhere, hasn’t been in years. 

Ray pulls out another contraption and MIkey notices that it’s a crude radio, the antenna is a wad of aluminum foil and when Ray turns it on softly, there’s a lot of crackling. “There’s no radio stations here in Battery City,” Ray explains, then keeps turning the dial until he hears a staticy voice saying, “I’m Dr. D and this next one goes out to our favorite crash queen out there.” And then there’s an echoy rendition of Doll Parts by Hole. 

Mikey knows his eyes are bugging out of his head, but his world has sorta just exploded. 

Again. 

He knew that there were rebels out in the zones, but he sorta thought they were highly dysfunctional and barely getting by. He had no idea there was a  _ radio station _ out there. No idea that they still had music. How’d they get their hands on the tapes? How is this playing right now? They’re much more organized than anyone in Battery City gives them credit for. 

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe BL/ind paints this idea that they’re wild rebels that are primitive. If BL/ind makes it sound like life is inhabitable out there, they won’t have to worry about any of their drugged up sheep trying to escape. 

Mikey suddenly feels like his blood is boiling. 

“I check in every day,” Ray says, “To hear what they have to say and...it’s a whole different world out there. And maybe, fuck, I don’t know maybe it’s all pretend. You remember ‘War of the Worlds’?”

Mikey nods. Yeah, he remembers that movie, and how Gerard had told him it used to be a radio story back in the day. People were so blown away by the radio that they believed the story as truth, they really thought aliens were invading the Earth and it caused a frenzy. 

“I just,” Ray starts, running a hand through his curls, “I’m not much of a gambler, especially with something as monumental as this. But I’m not sure how much longer I can live like this either.”

Mikey nods and reaches out to stroke the speakers of the radio, feels the dial and traces over the numbers on the stations like they’re a map. 

“You seemed like you’d understand,” Ray whispers, and it makes Mikey look up. 

And then he takes Ray’s hand and squeezes. 

Ray looks down at their hands and smiles shyly. “I think the coffee is ready.”

*

Gerard knows that things are weird, but he doesn’t know why. 

He just knows that one minute he’s sitting at work, sketching a rough draft of a version of a layout for Korse’s prison and then the next he feels a hand tight around his wrist. 

Gerard blinks and it’s Mikey, tugging on his wrist frantically with wide eyes. Gerard feels his breath catch in this throat, but then it settles and he feels

fine. He feels fine. 

“What?” Gerard asks Mikey, who looks like he’s going to cry. And there’s that deep rooted part of him that’s screaming “Mikey’s upset!” but it sounds like an echo. It sounds so far away and Gerard’s not sure if he’s supposed to be paying attention to it or not. 

Mikey huffs and squeezes his wrist harder, making Gerard flinch. He puts his free hand over Mikey’s and tries to rub soothingly. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m ok,” he tells Mikey, trying to will Mikey to believe him. He’s not sure why Mikey is so freaked out. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Mikey’s eyes narrow and he relaxes his grip only to squeeze again as if he’s making a point. 

Gerard sighs and straightens up. “I’m fine. I promise, I’d tell you if there was something wrong.”

Mikey stares hard at him, eyes searching Gerard’s and he knows he can see something that Gerard can’t. Sees something wrong that Gerard hasn’t found yet and he knows it should worry him. Mikey isn’t an irrational person. When they were kids, Mikey was always the calm and collected one while Gerard made everything seem life or death. He was the one that Gerard called when he got overworked in LA and needed Mikey to talk him down. 

The only times Gerard’s seen Mikey lose his shit was when the bombs fell and then again when Pete got drafted and disappeared. So if Mikey is freaked out, there’s something wrong. 

But Gerard can’t bring himself to care. 

“I’m fine,” Gerard whispers, and then repeats it over and over until Mikey takes a deep breath and releases him. 

It gets Gerard thinking though. He tries to hold it together while he and Mikey finish watching the news and he forces a smile as Mikey gets up to go to bed, trying not to notice how Mikey lingers longer than usual before slipping into his room. 

Mikey leaves his bedroom door open. 

And Gerard’s not sure what to think about it all. He feels the thought trying to wiggle out of his brain, like it’s not supposed to be there. But Gerard latches onto it, makes himself say it to himself, “there’s something wrong,” over and over as he walks to the bathroom and stares in the mirror. 

His eyes look glazed over, and it sorta reminds him of staring at himself in bathroom mirrors when he would get drunk at house parties. He traces the dark bruises under his eyes, the ones that mirror Korse’s. But not Frank’s. 

There’s a connection, something bridging all this together but Gerard feels his mind protest as he tries to pull them together. Feels a barrier there and he leans against the sink gasping as if he just ran a marathon. 

He looks back up to the mirror and then back down at the sink, splashing water onto his face before reaching into the cabinet under the sink. He finds the pill bottle that he’s hid in an old box of hair dye so that Mikey wouldn’t freak out. 

He watches himself take it in the mirror and then turns to go back out to the bedroom to watch more television. 

He hasn’t been able to sleep the last few weeks, but he doesn’t really feel tired. He feels drained, like his body is exhausted, but his mind keeps running and won’t shut off. So lately he’s been sitting in front of the television and watching the endless cycle of bullshit news run all night long. 

But, he makes sure to go to his bedroom at some point in the early hours of the morning so Mikey doesn’t know he’s been up all night. They’re tense the next morning, Mikey handing Gerard his travel cup of coffee without even looking at him and Gerard feels that tug in his mind again, but he can’t unravel it to see what’s wrong. 

So he just takes the mug and says, “I’ll see you later, Mikes.”

He hasn’t been having lunch with Mikey, he hasn’t had much of an appetite and the desire to smoke is even gone. Instead, he just works through lunch and ignores the way Frank smacks his lips when he’s eating his salad. He always overdoes it on dressing and then it leaves Gerard watching Frank lick his fingers clean, and fuck that shouldn’t be allowed in the office. 

He hovers by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W as usual, and he tries to be discrete about it, but he’s pretty sure he looks obvious as hell. He never does see Korse, so he doesn’t linger long and heads into his and Frank’s office. 

He opens the door and, “Oh, sorry!” Gerard blurts out, going to turn around because Frank is clearly changing clothes, but he sorta gets distracted. 

At first there’s the flush of heat spreading across Gerard’s cheeks from seeing Frank without a shirt on. He tries to look away, but he traces the smoothness of Frank’s throat, how it flares out to strong shoulders then narrows at his waist. 

Frank hasn’t moved to put on a shirt yet, he just stands there like he’s taking in Gerard watching him. And Gerard’s not sure if he’s passing his test or not, but he feels the air getting thicker in the space between them that when Gerard inhales, it comes out as a soft gasp. 

He starts to turn around again, but then stops.

Because Frank has a lot of ink, and it’s like Gerard’s just gotten over the fact that Frank is half naked for him to really notice. 

Gerard’s always been afraid of needles, but tattoos are a huge thing for him. He loves the whole process of committing to something to be on your skin for life. He loves the pain that is involved, that exchange in order to wear your art proudly until you die. The trust between artist and customer. 

And Frank has so many. He catches glimpses of words and shapes, but Frank has his long sleeved turtle neck over his head before Gerard can distinguish the designs. He hurries to slide on his gloves because  _ oh my god _ he’s got tattoos on his hands as well. 

“You have tattoos,” Gerard says stupidly, and he catches Frank’s wince. 

Because tattoos are illegal and were expected to be removed once BL/ind took over.They show signs of rebellion. Of art, because it’s dangerous in Battery City. Art is a weapon.

Frank doesn’t say anything, just sits in his usual spot and pulls out the work he had been focused on yesterday. Gerard stands by the door still, waiting for him to say something more about it. Why hasn’t he had them removed? But he’s still covering them up.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Gerard says softly, looking out the door and down the hall to make sure no one is out there listening. 

There’s something stirring in Gerard. Something about art and how it saved his life way back when he was a bullied kid in school but the memories are really murky and it’s frustrating because it’s a vital part of who Gerard is as a person. And it makes Gerard sway, his hand flying out to catch himself on the table. 

He hears Frank hurry out of his seat but when he looks up, he sees Frank standing his ground. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth is pressed into a thin line, his hands balled into fists at his side. He looks like he wants to say something. To  _ do _ something, but he grips the table where he’s standing and bites out, “Are you ok?”

Gerard frowns and brings his hand up to his temple, rubbing his fingers there even though there’s no headache. There’s nothing at all and there’s another echoed warning in his mind, a warning that sounds like it’s coming from Mikey that something is really, really wrong. 

“I’m fine,” Gerard whispers, straightening himself and going to his seat. 

Gerard hasn’t been going to meet Mikey for lunch and he’s not sure why. He just loses track of time on this project. He’s trying to do his best so that Korse gives them more projects, he’d do anything to not keep replicating the same boring BL/ind buildings. He knows Frank is a little freaked about it being a prison, but Gerard doesn’t really seem to mind. Governments have prisons, and if the rebels out in the zones are how everyone describes them, it’s probably best they’re locked up.

All too soon, Frank is starting to pack up and Gerard sets down his pencil and looks down at his sketches he’s made for the day. They’re starting to make some headway, but they haven’t agreed on the exact layout just yet. 

Gerard gathers up his belongings and starts to head for the door, then pauses when he notices that Frank isn’t following him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Frank says with a firm tone even though his body language is anything but. He looks fidgety and when Gerard looks him in the face, it looks like Frank is pleading him to just go and not ask questions. 

“Alright,” Gerard says slowly, then walks out of the room. 

Gerard takes his time to walk down the hallway and towards the elevators, long enough that if Frank looked out he would be convinced Gerard was actually leaving. But then he turns back and hovers outside the office, peeking around the corner. 

Frank is squatting down by the cabinet that’s padlocked and Gerard watches as he pulls out blueprints. He spreads them out across the table and stares hard at them. Gerard can’t see what the blueprints are to from where he’s standing, but they have to be something important for Frank to keep them locked up. And for him to be staring so determinedly at them, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

The gesture hits Gerard, because it’s something that he used to do when he would get upset. It’s something so miniscule, but it’s breaking through that barrier that’s been separating his thoughts lately. There’s something that’s filtering the thoughts he’s processing and he knows, he  _ knows _ what’s going on but there’s something that keeps making the thought leave before Gerard settles on it. 

And then it’s gone completely and Gerard moves away from the door before walking back up the hallway and towards the elevators to go home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I feel like there needs to be more hours in the day. I'm juggling working full time again with grad school plus writing and running fanfic bookclub. I love it all, it's a blast but whew am I tired. I hope the shorter chapters are ok, I just like updating fairly frequently because I know it's frustrating waiting around for a WIP to update. We're starting to get deeper into the main plot though! There's some lovely Korse action next chapter to make up for him being missing in this one. Thanks again for reading and all the love that you all have shown this fic so far <3


	5. Chapter 5

Gerard doesn’t say anything the next morning, or the following or the one after that.

Frank’s been staying late every night this week and Gerard hovers each time, waiting to see if Frank will reveal anything, but he never does and Gerard doesn’t want to get caught. What he needs to do is stay after himself and watch Frank squirm for a reason why he shouldn’t. 

He keeps his work out as Frank starts pretending to pack up and when he feels Frank stiffen, Gerard looks up and smiles innocently. “There’s some stuff I want to finish,” he says, “Have a good night.”

Frank hesitates, but then nods, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Gerard waits for Frank to leave and then a bit longer before goes over to the padlock with a bobby pin he brought from home. When they were younger, he and Mikey used to practice locking and unlocking their bedrooms so that they could be ready whenever Batman would call on them for their skills. Gerard grins at the memory and gets to work.

He plugs the pins in and twists them slowly, wiggling around to feel the inner workings of the lock before smiling and twisting with a confident pressure at his wrist. The lock springs free, but when Gerard opens the cabinet, there’s nothing inside. 

Gerard knows that Frank was pulling those blueprints from here before, maybe he moved them? But why would he, he had no reason to suspect Gerard of anything. 

Unless someone else knows about Frank staying late. 

Just for good measure, Gerard searches all the other cabinets and drawers in the office, but of course he doesn’t find anything. He stands in the middle of the room, breathing a little heavy from searching so frantically. He doesn’t particularly want to be caught sorting through the office like a madman. 

He clicks the padlock back into place then gathers his things and leaves. Maybe it’s from being in detective mode, but he stops when he reaches the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit. He shifts back and forth on his feet before making the decision to enter. 

It’s even more bare than the rest of the building. Gerard remembers working in an office for a bit when he was doing an internship. He remembers all the tacky wall art, the motivational papers and framed photos of important people. There’s none of that here. 

Gerard trails his hand on the white walls as he walks through the empty unit. He’s a bit on edge that there’s no one here. It’s like the police, right? Shouldn’t it be full? 

Unless they’re somewhere else. He thinks about the zones and how much the Dracs must stand out against the warm desert. He’s heard rumors that it’s so colorful out there, that the radiation in the sky makes everything technicolored. 

He reaches the offices of the unit and notices that they’re locked with some sort of keycard lock. Gerard looks down at his own ID card and knows he’s not going to be getting into any of these. 

He’s turning around to leave when he feels strong hands brace on his shoulders, and only when he turns his head does he realize that Korse has stopped them from running into each other. “Lost?” Korse asks, voice smooth and inflexing a bit at the end like they used to have an accent once upon a time. 

Gerard opens his mouth, but it feels dry. He swallows and manages, “Just exploring.”

Korse’s expression shifts to something almost amused, and maybe even fond. It’s weird seeing actual emotions on their face. Gerard’s always heard stories of Korse, some people thought they were an android from the way they’re so stoic. But Gerard sees the warmth under their pale, dry face. He sees the sparkle of someone under those cold eyes that are rimmed red from being out in the zones too much. 

He’s aware that Korse’s hands are still on his shoulders and they feel like two stones pinning Gerard in place. They’re warmer than Gerard would have thought, maybe because he’s always thought that warmth equated to loving and nurturing. And those descriptors don’t really seem to match Korse’s agenda at BL/ind. 

But Gerard  _ feels _ a ghost of something there. It’s similar to the feeling he’s been battling lately of something almost there. Something teasing him and whispering tauntingly, “I know something you don’t know.”

Korse takes a step closer and Gerard turns fully so that they’re almost chest to chest. On Korse’s inhale, their shirts brush and Gerard has an involuntary wonder of what it would feel like skin to skin. If Korse is warm all over. 

“Curiosity,” Korse murmurs, but it sounds so loud against the static in the room, feels like running a hand across an analog television, “is a dangerous trait to have, Gerard.”

His name sounds like an incantation on Korse’s lips, but Gerard’s felt like he’s been under a spell long before they’ve ever uttered a word. 

“Let me walk you out?” Korse asks, nodding towards the door and Gerard feels that whiplash feeling again. That confusion over what he’s heard about Korse and what he’s been experiencing. 

“Sure,” Gerard breathes, but regrets it when Korse’s hands leave his shoulders. 

Korse leads them out of the unit, turning to lock the door with his ID card and then gestures for Gerard to head to the elevators. Being enclosed in a small space with Korse feels like all his air is being heated by the same fire that’s licking at his stomach. And the heat of Korse’s gaze on him. Because he feels like he’s under gallery lights. Like he’s on display because he was interesting, like he was meant to be placed up to a white wall so that all his intricacies could be placed on display. 

Korse tilts their head even, trying to get another angle at him as if it would solve the case for him. Gerard’s always felt like an open book, like he wore everything on his sleeve that it feels good to be looked at with curiosity. A dangerous trait, Korse had said, but one he was willing to risk for Gerard it seemed.

When they reach the lobby, Gerard expects Korse to leave him here but he feels Korse’s hand on the small of his back. He’s proud of himself for not jumping like he had thought he would and lets Korse walk them outside, and only then do they pause. 

“Goodnight, Gerard,” Korse says, sounding more cold and robotic like their perceived self. Like they’re playing a character, only their hand is still on Gerard’s back. He wonders what the price is for Korse to show affection. If that’s even what this is. They don’t even know each other.

Or maybe Korse knows Gerard. BL/ind has everything about him documented down to who he took to his prom in high school. But Gerard doesn’t know Korse and it’s unsettling how the balance is off kilter. 

But when Korse removes their hand from Gerard’s back, it slides slowly across his shirt, dipping a little under the fabric and against his skin. 

So maybe Gerard’s learning a bit more than he thinks. 

Korse’s lips quirk up just slightly, then they’re turning to walk in the opposite direction to where Gerard is heading. 

Gerard sighs and starts walking home. And just when he doesn’t think his night could get any weirder, he opens the door to his apartment and freezes. 

Because Mikey is sitting on their couch with this contraption on the coffee table. He follows the cord that is coming out of the device to a pair of headphones draped over Mikey’s head. And then Gerard looks at the CDs sitting on the table and  _ oh _ . 

Mikey looks up with wide eyes and then rushes up to run to the door and slam it shut. 

Gerard walks slowly to the couch and brushes his fingers over...it’s a CD player. Fuck he hasn’t seen one of these since before the bombs. And it sorta reminds him of the one that sat in his parent’s basement where he and Mikey would take turns playing Bowie or The Smiths. “Where did you get this?” Gerard breathes. 

Mikey sits next to him and raises an eyebrow. He can’t tell him, of course not, and Gerard nods, “You know what? I don’t really want to know.  _ Why _ do you have this?”

Mikey huffs like it’s obvious, and maybe it is really. Gerard’s always loved music, it was one of the only things that really drowned out the noise of his mind. That overpowered the intrusive thoughts that Gerard used to battle every day. And he knows he and Mikey have their differences, but not where it counts. When it comes to their core makeup, he knows that Mikey is just the same as Gerard. No matter how much that hurts to know his little brother experiences the same horrible betrayal of his own mind, it helps him have a better grasp of him. Especially lately when all he can rely on are cues and deep rooted truths he’s learned from growing up together. 

So he knows how wild Mikey’s been going without music. Without something to drown out the sounds of the bombs or Pete’s final words. He knows that Mikey’s been terrified of that longing, of wondering when it would finally consume him. 

“Alright,” Gerard agrees softly, letting Mikey put the headphones over Gerard’s ears. And he grins, because it’s Blur and Gerard wonders if Mikey’s bootlegged stash of CDs were carefully chosen to bring Gerard in on this little secret. 

And that pulls at his heart. Almost like sadness, but Gerard doesn’t feel it as deeply as he should. He frowns. Fucking  _ feel _ , he demands himself and it’s scary. It’s so fucking terrifying to feel like he doesn’t have control over his own mind, his own emotions. Even memories seem to be leaking out of his mind. 

He feels the hand that’s hovering over the CD player tremble and he quickly pulls it to his chest, but Mikey’s already seen it. 

“I’m fine,” Gerard lies, “I’m just working a lot.”

Mikey stares at him, hard like his mom used to do whenever he would sneak in from being out all night with his friends. 

“I know,” Gerard whispers, “But I’m handling it.”

Mikey still doesn’t look so sure, but he sighs and hits play on the CD player and Gerard let’s the music drown out his thoughts. 

*

Working with Frank is fucking maddening. 

It’s like he’s challenging everything Gerard suggests for the layout of the prison. Even just the fucking basic design he’s got a problem with. The issue, Gerard thinks, is that Frank keeps trying to build everything the way they used to see buildings. He’s not thinking the way BL/ind wants him to think. And that’s probably what Frank has an issue with. 

Gerard’s immersed himself in the company by now. He’s taking their pills, he’s studying their contracts and record of past projects. He takes notice to how this building is structured down to the types of electrical outlets they’re using. He’s been taking his time coming into the office to track the security system as he walks through, looks around and sees the tracers on the walls and the small cameras in the corners of the rooms where they think they’re out of view. So he knows what BL/ind wants, and maybe that’s a problem for Frank. 

He knows that Frank is rebellious, the tattoos are pretty much a give away, but he didn’t think Frank would outright challenge everything Gerard said as a way to slow down the process. Because that’s what Frank is doing, he’s trying to stall the prison being built. 

That is until the day that Gerard comes into the office after hovering by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W to look for Korse again and finds them there in the office with Frank. Frank looks winded, like he’s ran a marathon but he’s trying to not let it show how out of shape he really is. He looks just as unhinged as Gerard feels when he’s around Korse and, huh, that’s sorta interesting. 

Korse is slow to look away from Frank, but they turn to take in Gerard. “I was just checking in,” they say, and Gerard can taste that slight accent hidden in their voice. He wants to ask where it’s from, who was Korse before BL/ind washed out their color? “I’m a bit disappointed in the lack of progress.”

Gerard’s eyes shift to Frank’s and Frank glares back at him. Like this is  _ his _ fucking fault. He waits for Frank to speak up, but Frank crosses his arms and looks back defiantly. “We’re in a groove now,” Gerard lies, looking back at Korse and he can see on their face that they don’t believe a bit of what he’s saying so he adds, “We had a bit of a misunderstanding.”

Korse takes a step in Gerard’s direction and crowds his space again, though Gerard doesn’t mind  _ one bit _ . Gerard holds their gaze, takes in how the redness that he saw that night in S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W has lightened and Gerard feels a swell of affection that Korse is taking care of themself. 

What. The. Fuck?

“Anything I can clear up?” Korse asks, drawing out the question and humming a bit at the end. 

“We got it,” Frank finally says from his corner of the room. 

Gerard watches in fascination as Korse’s usual grim shaped lips twist up in amusement as they turn to face Frank. “Wonderful,” they say, and then they give Gerard one more look before walking out of the office. 

Gerard lets out a long breath, but it doesn’t help. The room still feels charged and Gerard feels like a metal rod in the middle of a lightning storm, just biding his time. Frank doesn’t look much better and he’s staring at Gerard like he wants to slit his throat or fuck him over the table. 

“Let’s get to work,” Frank huffs, throwing himself into his seat. 

Gerard feels. 

He feels a stirring in his stomach, feels his chest tighten and there’s something poking through his brain, almost at the surface and Gerard can almost touch it.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” Frank bites out. 

Gerard huffs, a little surprised how irritated he actually feels and he sits down, pulling out his materials from yesterday. It’s a tense morning, with no conversations to break up the taunt ticking of the clock or the scuffle of erasers and frustrated huffs. 

And then, “God, can you keep your shit to your side of the table?” Frank shoves at the files Gerard has creeping over to Frank’s side. The papers slide out of their folders and mix in front of Gerard. 

“Seriously?” Gerard bites out, anger hot and thumping in his veins and it's so strong. So strong for something so juvenile. And it’s like his body is trying to fight it, trying to shove it into a nice neat box to be stored where it belongs.

He feels his hand tremble, the same way it had the other night when he got upset over Mikey’s CD player. It’s like something is fighting his body from feeling. And maybe it’s losing its battle. 

“And for another thing,” Frank starts, standing up to go look at Gerard’s sketches, “Why the fuck would you keep the cells in the basement?”

Gerard scoffs. “Um, a dungeon? Duh.”

“Shit, you were one of those weird DnD motherfuckers weren’t you?”

Gerard pushes himself away from the desk and glares up at him. “Why are you trying to sabotage the project?”   


Gerard can see the anger boil up Frank. He can trace the way it clenches his legs and locks his knees, how it curls his fists and squares his shoulders, how the vein in his neck protrudes and his teeth gnaw at his lip. “What are you accusing me of?”

“You know,” Gerard hisses, “You’re--”

“You don’t know know what the fuck you’re talking--”

“--seen the blueprints--”

“-must be fucking high as a kite, man, because--”

“--not an idiot, I’ve seen--”

“Tell me what you’ve seen!” Frank shrieks, throwing his hands up in the air and fuck, he’s so unhinged right now. “Tell me what the fuck you think you know or shut the fuck up because you can’t say shit like that in here, you can’t…” and Frank is breathing so hard. Laborious and shallow breaths that Gerard imagines against his face with Frank looking up at him against dark sheets. Fuck, he looks so beautiful right now and he probably doesn’t even know. 

Gerard realizes he hasn’t said anything and starts, “I’m so--”

And then Frank’s mouth is on his. 

Gerard hasn’t been kissed in years, and the times in art school seem so murky under the layers of alcohol. But he feels this. Even as his hands tremble, his body fighting for the right to feel  _ everything _ , he feels Frank. His lips bruising against his, teeth scraping together and Gerard flinches when his bottom lip is caught between Frank’s a bit too roughly. But it lights him on fire. It burns it’s way through his body and wakes him up from that slumber he’s been induced into. 

Gerard slides his hand up Frank’s shirt, stroking his strong back, feeling the way it dips at his waistband and he wonders what the ink looks like there. He feels Frank tugging at Gerard’s belt loops, tugging him closer until their hips are flushed against one another and Gerard’s about two seconds from dropping to his knees so he can mouth at the hardness that’s pressed against him. 

Frank tastes like Jersey. Tastes like cigarettes and too bitter coffee, like he’s been sitting in one of those old neighborhood diners all day and, fuck, he tastes like home. And it makes Gerard’s  _ bones _ ache with how much he fucking misses his old life. How much he wants to pretend he could take Frank home, wants to be able to press Frank into the sheets that smell like him instead of chemical laundry soap. Wants to hear Mikey give him shit about it tomorrow, wants Mikey to fucking joke and laugh and fucking  _ talk _ . 

Frank’s hand wraps around Gerard’s hip, fingers digging into his flesh and he knows he’ll bruise. He tilts his hips up, licks the inside of Frank’s mouth, practically begging him to fucking do something. Do more. More. More. More. 

But then Frank pulls away harshly and when Gerard goes to follow him, he shoves Gerard back against the wall and storms out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and all the support <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already, you should check out the [Warped 2020 Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warped2020) that me and my friends created.

Mikey’s apartment is closer than Ray’s, at least that’s the excuse he gives himself when he takes Ray’s hand and tugs him home. 

Really, he just wants to see Ray in his personal space. Wants to see his smile warm up his cold living room, hear his laughter bounce off the bare walls. There’s something so intimate about opening the door to his safe space for Ray, something so trusting that he doesn’t even hesitate for a second as he ushers Ray inside. 

Ray’s laughing at the CDs that Mikey borrowed from him. Ray had given Mikey a CD player and lifted up a floorboard to show him his stash of CDs. “There’s a sector in my department that’s supposed to destroy all the CDs that S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W finds on patrol,” he had said with a pained expression, “I can’t always get in there, and when I do I can’t take too much or they’ll get suspicious.”

And Mikey just squeezed his hand, like,  _ you’re doing the best you can _ . 

Because that’s all any of them can do right now. It’s a weird place to be. To live in this city that saved them from ruin, but wanting to escape it at the same time. Because safety doesn’t feel as good as freedom lately. 

Especially when Ray’s told him about the pills. The ones that Mikey had found in their bathroom cabinet and he frowned, putting one into his pocket and showing Ray the next day at work. 

Ray had frowned. “You’re not...is that your brother’s?”

Mikey hadn’t admitted it to himself, not really, but it made all Gerard’s weird behavior make sense and he hated that he hadn’t figured it out before then. So he nodded. 

Ray sighed and put an arm around him. “I don’t know what to tell you to do. He might... Mikey, I know you don’t want to hear it, but it might be too late to get him out of that cycle.”

Mikey squared his jaw and pulled away from Ray. Because Ray doesn’t know them, doesn’t know how much they look after each other. Especially now that they’re all each other has. 

“There’s not anything you can do. If he’s too far gone, he might not even care that you’re upset. They suppress your humanity, Mikey,” Ray had told him, and Mikey could see that he was trying to keep his voice steady, “They don’t let you feel any emotion that BL/ind thinks is negative, Anger, jealousy, fear, sadness...even fatigue. The body can’t survive without those emotions, it needs the cues to know when to take a break. When to sleep and, fuck it’s just not living. Not everything is black and white. Anger sucks, but it also made some kick ass albums. Fear? Yeah, the fight or flight response? Sorta important for survival.”

Mikey knows there’s something buried under Ray’s smile that came out that night. A snitbit of a nightmare that he’s tried to wash away with hidden music and that red guitar pick. Because just for a moment, Ray had looked as broken as the rest of them--had looked like he’d been to hell and back and it makes Mikey’s stomach sick to think about someone as good as Ray hurting that deeply. 

“Do you remember going to the movies?” Ray asks, pulling his mind back to the living room they’re sitting in. 

Mikey grins and nods. Yeah, he remembers movie theaters, remembers how they were the perfect escape from the summer heat. His earliest memory of his dad is that day he pulled him and Gerard out of school to go see the new Star Wars movie that had just come out. How he let him and Gerard order the large tub of popcorn even though it was going to make their stomachs hurt. And Gerard leaned in throughout the whole movie and explained to Mikey who was who and what was going on, giving him little backstories as the characters came on screen. And then later, how he escaped into the theaters with Pete to press up against the seats and kiss in the cloak of darkness. 

“I miss movies,” Ray sighs, “I started school as a film major before switching over. I might have finished school in time if I hadn’t switched so late.”

Mikey gives him a look and Ray grins, “Yeah, I know. How could I have known the world was going to fall apart?”

Mikey blushes, because it’s sort of weird to have someone other than Gerard be able to hold a one sided conversation with him without feeling left out. Good weird though, like Mikey has someone else in his corner.

He and Ray jump when the door opens, habit from being on edge with the random S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W raids, but it’s just Gerard. Gerard who looks like he’s going to drop at any moment. His eyes are lined red from irritation and the bags under his eyes are terrifying.  _ It needs those cues to know when to take a break _ . And it’s scary to watch Gerard still move like there’s nothing wrong, like he hasn’t gone weeks without sleeping. Mikey isn’t sure how long his body will be able to handle that, how--

He jumps up to his feet when he hears a crash and he rushes to the kitchen. Gerard is staring down on the floor where a mug is broken and he’s practically vibrating. Mikey reaches out and takes his shaking hands and squeezes them still, looking at him pleadingly.  _ Please tell me how to help you. _

“‘M fine, Mikes, ‘m fine,” he breaths, but his eyes are blinking rapidly. 

“It’s the pills,” Ray says gently, coming into the kitchen and taking in the scene, “How long have you been taking them?”

Gerard looks sheepishly at the floor. “Since I started,” he says, cheeks tinted a slight pink and Mikey wants to slap him and hug him at the same time. What a fucking idiot.

He looks back up at Mikey and must see the betrayed look on his face. “We needed the money, Mikey, they were threatening my job.”

Mikey squeezes tighter around his wrists.  _ Not worth losing you over. _

Gerard gets it because he sighs and nods, “I’m sorry.”

Mikey brushes his thumb over the top of Gerard’s hands like,  _ it’s ok.  _

“You’ve got two options,” Ray says, finding the broom in the pantry. He scoops some of the bigger pieces of glass in the trash first before sweeping the rest up in a pan. “The body doesn’t do well on the type of inhibitors they’re pumping those pills full of. It eventually fights back and builds up a tolerance, but it’s overworking itself and needs to let out that energy some way. That’s why you’re getting the tremors.”

Mikey pulls Gerard in closer, wanting to lock him in his room and never let anyone from BL/ind get their hands on him again. 

“So you can detox,” Ray says, setting the broom back in the pantry, “and that’s not fun, I promise you, but once it’s out of your system you’ll be back to normal. Or, you can tell BL/ind that you’re experiencing withdrawals and they’ll up your dosage. The problem with that is you’re going to keep going through this cycle until you're basically a robot”--Ray sighs and frowns a bit-- “You know, like how Korse is.”

Mikey watches the way Gerard winces at that, and he can’t help but wonder what the hell Gerard’s gotten himself mixed with. 

Gerard takes a deep breath and turns his hands in Mikey’s hold so that he can wrap his fingers around Mikey’s wrists. “Do you want me to stop taking them?”   


Mikey nods.  _ Duh, dumbass. _

Gerard grins, but it looks shaky. Still, he nods and says with the same determined tone he had when he told Mikey he was going to get sober, “I’ll stop.”

*

Gerard knows that it’s probably a bad idea to detox from emotion inhibiting pills the day after Frank just kissed the fuck out of him, but he promised Mikey. 

It had been hell to go to sleep last night. He hadn’t taken his pill and it was like his body  _ knew _ the minute after he slipped under his sheets without adding to the chemicals in his brain that something was wrong. It was like his skin was crawling and tiny little miners were picking away at his brain with axes. 

After a few hours, or fuck it could had been just twenty minutes, he got up and went to Mikey’s room. Mikey looked like he hadn’t been able to go to sleep either and just slid over to the side and held up the blankets. They hadn’t done that since the bombs, and it felt just as ruining. Gerard was vibrating with fear the same way he had back then, and all Mikey could do was reach down and hold his hand through it all. 

Mikey had fixed Gerard with a travel mug of coffee and packed him extra Pop Tarts in his bag, smiling a little like the extra sugar would help him combat the hell he was going to face today. He walked with Gerard, stopping whenever Gerard needed to pause and light yet another cigarette, and then lingered in the elevator when it was Mikey’s turn to get off. 

“I’ll be alright,” Gerard promises. 

Mikey fixes him with a look that reminds Gerard of his mom, and his heart clenches a bit at that. Fuck he misses her, and Mikey sometimes looks just like her that it nearly kills him.

“I promise,” he tells him, forcing a smile and leaves it stretching his lips until Mikey walks out and the elevator shuts. 

Gerard doesn’t hover this morning like he usually does, he doesn’t want to see Korse or anyone in BL/ind really. He’s terrified they’ll know he’s gone off the meds. And they’ll, what? Toss him out on the street? Fire him? He’s not really sure. But the image of Mrs. Newman standing out in the hall trembling in fear, of her disappearing, really freaks him out. 

Frank doesn’t look up as Gerard walks in, and that’s perfect actually. He doesn’t need to get into it with Frank today. Not today of all days. So he just pulls out his sketches, working on the individual cells this time, and tries to keep his hands from shaking too much. 

He makes it through the morning fine enough. He kept having to take breaks to focus on his breathing and not how it felt like he was sitting in a desert instead of his temperature controlled office. Lunch with Mikey and Ray helped, Ray talked enough for him and Mikey to distract Gerard the best he could. But by the time he was walking back to the office, the shakes ripping through his body were violent and nearly sent him to the ground. 

He sags in his chair and tries to make it look like he’s working so that Frank wouldn’t think anything was up. He’s pretty sure now that Frank isn’t taking the pill either, but that doesn’t mean he can trust him yet. It doesn’t mean that Frank wouldn’t turn him in just to get his office to himself again so that he can carry on doing whatever the fuck it is he does after hours. 

And fuck, he just really needs a break from this kind of life he’s living. He’s tired of being tired. Sick of being scared of everything. Of having to watch his and Mikey’s back constantly. His heart has been gutted, absolutely gutted from...from fucking day one of all of this bullshit. 

He had his own losses too. Had to hear through the grapevine that finally made it out to California that friends he had in elementary school had gone missing. That his first boyfriend got drafted. And then his parents? He still won’t forgive the world for taking them away from him and Mikey. Won’t ever believe in a high power, because what kind of creator would send his parents away without giving Gerard the chance to even say goodbye? He had been on the other side of the country and he...and then his brother just shows up and he’s supposed to take care of him? Gerard hadn’t even felt like he could take care of himself, let alone his pissed off seventeen year old brother. He’d just gotten sober, just gotten into a stable routine with his job and then he was in charge of another life. 

And then to fucking listen to that scream. That last sound that Mikey made, it still haunts him sometimes. It used to be tied to just his nightmares, but every now and then it slips into his mind when he’s just walking to work or folding laundry. That soul crushing, agony filled, almost  _ animalistic _ scream of someone who had just lost...well, Gerard had been terrified that Mikey had lost his will to live. Gerard doesn’t know if he should feel grateful that his brother just lost his voice, but he is. Glad that it wasn’t anything worse. 

So, it would be fucking nice to have a break. Even if it just meant that Frank would smile at him. Or at least say “good morning” when he came in. Maybe look up in his direction? Something to let him feel like there’s still humanity out there. He wants to feel like someone out there gives a damn about him. Needs to feel like someone is taking care of him for once and…

“Gerard?”

Gerard realizes he can’t even see from the tears filling his eyes. The sketches he’s been working on all day are blurred together and his hands are shaking again, so hard the pencil falls out and hits the cold tiled floor with a  _ ting _ . 

“Hey--”

Gerard jumps a little when he feels Frank’s hand on his back. “Gerard, hey, deep breath,” he hears against his ear, “you can’t do this here. Come on, deep breath.”

He tries, Gerard really does try, but his inhale comes in as a sob and Frank mutters, “Fuck,” and he wipes his eyes to see that Frank is shutting and locking the door. 

They can’t do that. They’ll know something is wrong. They’ll. They’ll...

“We’ll tell anyone who asks that we’re working on a secret project for Korse,” Frank says slowly, soothingly, like he’s talking to a wild animal. 

Gerard feels unhinged as Frank walks back around the table and pulls Gerard’s chair out so that Gerard moves away from the table. “C’mere,” he says gently, holding out his arms. 

It’s a trap, Gerard thinks. Why would Frank--

“Gerard,” Frank says in a tone that brings Gerard out of his chair and into Frank’s arms. And as soon as his nose presses against Frank’s neck, the floodgates break. All the tears that he had needed to shed these last weeks while he’s been drugged up come out with a vengeance. Frank hugs an arm around his waist and cups the back of Gerard’s head with his other hand, turning Gerard so that his sobs are muffled into his shoulder. “Easy, shhh.”

It’s soothing, feels safe in a way that Gerard hasn’t felt in ages. Even before the bombs, back when he was living alone in LA with bills piling up on his kitchen counter and his own pride keeping him from going home. All those lonely nights curled up on his kitchen floor with a liquor bottle in his hand. He can’t remember being held like this. 

Frank strokes the back of his head. “When did you stop the pills?”

“Last night,” Gerard replies wetly. 

Frank hugs him a little tighter and makes a sympathetic noise. “You’re going to be in it for a bit,” he warns, “but it should get better by the third day or so.”

And that helps a bit, seeing a finish line. Gerard just needs to pull himself together and hang on until then. He takes a deep breath, trying to get himself under control.

“Good,” Frank praises softly, moving his hand off the back of Gerard’s head to slide around the back of his neck and rub gently, “Take your time.”

He does. He breathes in deeply, matching the slow way Frank is demonstrating. He focuses on Frank’s hands on him, on the way that he smells a bit sweet, on his soft shirt that’s hiding the tattoos Gerard knows are there. And then he lifts his head. 

Frank loosens his hold on Gerard, searching his face and then he takes a step back to give Gerard his space. Gerard appreciates it and wipes his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. 

“You good?” Frank asks, nodding towards the door. 

Gerard sniffles, but nods. Frank gives him a couple more minutes anyway, and then he opens the door and takes his seat again. It’s almost as if nothing happened, but Gerard feels Frank’s eyes on him all the rest of the day. And when they’re getting ready to leave, Frank doesn’t even bother with the pretenses that he’s going to leave right after Gerard. He stands at the door and presses his lips down into a worried line. “Are you going to be alright tonight? Do you have someone to look out for you?”

Gerard’s not sure when Frank suddenly flipped the switch and started giving a damn about Gerard. Maybe it’s because he’s not taking the pills anymore, maybe that means Frank can trust him more or something. 

“Mikey,” Gerard answers, “My little brother.” 

Gerard feels a little shaken, letting Frank know something so personal about him. Letting him know about Mikey, giving him the opportunity to...no, stop. He’s just getting worked up again. 

Frank takes a step closer. “Alright.”

Gerard holds his breath as Frank takes another step so that he’s almost pressed against him. It’s a combination of this afternoon and yesterday. Not as frenzied as when Frank kissed him last night, but not as safe as earlier this afternoon had been either. “Be careful, they’re watching,” he whispers, then he takes a step back. 

Gerard feels cold. Feels like he wanted Frank to kiss him again, something soft and purposeful instead of driven by anger so hot it merges into lust. 

He holds Frank’s hot gaze and then he makes himself tear away and walk shakily towards the elevators. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love on the last chapter. I know Korse wasn't in this one, but next chapter is mostly all Korse and Gerard tension.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update schedule? I don't know her.

Mikey likes to think he’s got a good handle on his brother, but tonight is sorta testing that theory. No matter what he does, Gerard seems to be in agony. Mikey wasn’t there for the time he detoxed from all that shit he was doing in college, but if it was anything like this then he’s selfishly happy that he missed it. 

Mikey wrings out another washcloth under the cold tap water and then brings it back to Gerard’s bedroom, laying it on his forehead and patting his shoulder when he wheezes, “Frank said it’ll get better after tomorrow.”

Gerard keeps sweating through all the t-shirts Mikey helps him change into and he’s tempted to leave him in his damp cotton except that Gerard keeps shivering like he’s cold. This is another one of those times where Mikey wishes he could find the strength to speak, to say something that would offer Gerard comfort. But it doesn’t happen, Mikey just  _ can’t _ . 

Someone knocks at the door and Mikey jumps, wide eyes meeting Gerard’s equally terrified expression. “It’s ok,” Gerard whispers, “Make sure the music is hidden.”

Mikey rushes through the living room, double checking that everything is in its place before opening the door. His shoulders sag in relief when he sees Ray standing there with a shopping bag in his hand. 

“Hey,” Ray says, “I brought soup.”

Mikey cracks a smile and lets him in. Ray unpacks in the kitchen, sneaking what he probably thinks are inconspicuous looks. “How are you holding up?”

Mikey shrugs and then holds his hand out and tilts it back and forth meaning, “so-so”. 

“Yeah,” Ray agrees, “I get that.”

Again, Mikey feels like there’s a story there that’s dimming Ray’s light just a little bit. Just enough for Mikey to notice, and it’s another one of those weird moments where Mikey is caught off guard because he never expected himself to want to try and know someone like this again. 

“I got tomato,” Ray says, dumping the gelatinous glob into a pot that he found in their oven, “Chicken noodle soup from a can freaks me out. Especially since there haven’t been chickens in some years now.”

Mikey doesn’t tell him there hasn’t been any tomatoes either, but he supposes fake tomatoes is better than fake meat. Though there was that time that Pete was vegetarian and kept eating soy shaped meat. He’s willing to guess whatever BL/ind makes their chicken noodle soup out of isn’t soy.

Ray is so careful with Gerard, like he’s done this before. He settles himself in Gerard’s room like it’s the most natural thing in the world and doesn’t make it seem embarrassing when Ray helps Gerard eat half a bowl of soup. He just tells Gerard about this band he used to mess around in when he was in Jersey as he holds out spoonfuls of soup to Gerard. Mikey can tell that Gerard is super impressed and wants to ask him more questions, but he’s fading fast. He barely gets a few words out about the music scene in Jersey when he still lived there before he’s falling asleep mid sentence. Mikey looks a little worried until Ray says quietly, “Sleep is good.”

Mikey frowns but lets Ray lead him out into the living room. Mikey is sucking as a good host, so he goes to start a pot of coffee for them. 

Ray sits at the kitchen counter and Mikey can see the internal debate going on behind his eyes. And he wishes he had more than coffee to offer him. But, Ray looks up and purses his lips like he's still debating, then, “I don’t think I mentioned that I have two older brothers.”

Oh. Yeah, that sorta makes sense. Mikey thinks that there’s totally a chemical difference or something in people’s brains who have a sibling than people who don’t. Like there’s just this different view of life, different mannerisms and expectations that come with having a sibling. 

Mikey shakes his head and sits down at the table, settling in and waiting for Ray to continue. He smiles sheepishly, like he’s not used to being put on the spot which is strange since he’s the one who’s been doing all the talking. 

“Yeah, so we all got drafted,” Ray says softly and Mikey’s eyes go wide. He hasn’t talked to anyone who went to war and came back. He knows that, of course, there are people who came back home--but there are just so many that didn’t. And Mikey tries not to think about it too hard or else he pictures Pete wandering around in the desert, trying to find his way back home. Thinks about that because the idea of Pete dead makes Mikey want to throw up. 

“My brothers and I got pretty lucky in that we all were in the same platoon,” Ray continues, and then he kinda smiles, “Or unlucky depending how you look at it. The other guys got on my case because my brothers babied me quite a bit. But I was still pretty young, probably too young to be holding a gun--though I don’t know when someone is ever really ready for that. Or to see death.”

Mikey reaches out and takes Ray’s hand, squeezes and then brings it closer to him. 

Ray swallows and then, “My oldest brother died in a firefight.” And Mikey can’t help but notice how he won’t call his brothers by their names. He knows it’s probably--it’s probably the same reason why Mikey can’t speak in general, and he’s suddenly terrified of whatever Ray is about to tell him, because this is already an awful start to what he can guess is a worsening story. “And my other brother just went mad. I couldn’t understand how he...I mean I was hurting too and I was angry, but he just flew off the deep end. He kept telling me that the other side had all these advanced technologies that didn’t make any sense. They were far beyond what we had and they were...they weren’t trying to win a war, they were just  _ exterminating _ people. He was saying that they started this war to clean up the world and make everything  _ better _ .”

Mikey jumps when he hears the coffee maker beep to signal that it’s ready, but he doesn’t move to get them both a cup. He just squeezes Ray’s hand and urges him to get this out. Whatever he’s been keeping to himself since the wars, he deserves to tell someone. To have someone in his corner the way that he’s been in Mikey’s. 

“I didn’t understand what he was doing,” Ray whispers, “He just would go off on his own, and our commander was livid. Kept threatening to kick him out and leave him out in the wasteland on his own. But I promised I’d keep him in line and I was able to...at least keep his antics away from the commander.”

Mikey smiles a little at that, how it sorta reminds him of Gerard and himself. 

“And then, BL/ind came into power after the war ended and he just…”Ray shudders, “He figured out early on what the pills were and got off them quickly. He...I watched him detox from them and he told me that night everything that they had done to his body. He detailed everything and what the detox process was like, how to get back on his feet and--” Ray cuts off and wipes at his face, “He must have known that they were on to him. Because he told me everything he could, everything he could think of. And then the next day, he never came home.”

Mikey takes a deep breath and then gets up to crawl into Ray’s lap. Ray jumps a little, and Mikey wonders if he’s crossing a line, but Ray leans in and rests his forehead against Mikey’s chest. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Mikes. I don’t know what’s the best move. If I’m supposed to just lie low and follow the directions my brother gave me or if I’m supposed to fight like he did.”

Mikey wraps his arms around Ray and hugs him tight, resting his chin into his curly hair. He feels Ray take several deep breaths, hears the words that Ray hasn’t spoken,  _ either way I’m disappointing him _ . 

Because Mikey knows a thing or two about letting big brothers down.

*

When Gerard gets up the next morning, he really just wants to crawl right back into bed. He still feels shaky on his legs, feels like his skin is on inside out and everything is making him sensitive both physically and emotionally. 

Gerard walks into the kitchen, and after seeing Ray still asleep on the couch, smirks a little. Mikey glowers like  _ don’t go there _ , but because Gerard is Gerard, he says, “I’m going to go in early so you and your new boyfriend can have breakfast together.”

Mikey rolls his eyes and huffs, but he’s smiling a little and Gerard sees a hint of a blush high on his cheekbones. 

He goes over to Mikey and ruffles his hair, not wanting to say anything else that might send Mikey spiraling. Because Gerard didn’t think Mikey would ever open up to anyone after Pete, and he’s not about to ruin that. 

The walk into work is hell. He sometimes wishes he wasn’t so hellbent on wanting the best for Mikey because it would be really nice to have his boney shoulder to lean into right about now. He’s sagging against the elevators, trying not to notice how everything is spinning and when the elevator chimes, it sounds so far away. 

He’s got this strange idea that all he needs to do is get across the bridge and to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit. Then he’ll be safe. Which is fucking stupid since they’re probably the ones who are going to take Gerard out if he stopped following the company’s orders. Tell that to the part of his brain that is just shouting  _ Korse, Korse, Korse _ . 

He gets to the glass covered bridge and he has to stop and close his eyes because it’s so bright. So bright that it makes his  _ ears _ ring, and he never knew senses could cross like that, he’s never experienced pain this fucked up that his body starts short circuiting. And he thinks he’s walking, but maybe he’s falling. 

But then he feels strong hands around him and the next thing he knows, he’s waking up. 

Waking up. 

He looks up at the white ceiling in his line of vision then slowly tries to sit up. His head spins and he groans, holding a hand up to his head. 

“Missing a dose is not recommended,” Korse says from the corner of the exam room Gerard is in. 

Oh, fuck.

He’s been off the pills long enough to feel a swirl of fear tie up his intestines, feels his fingertips run cold and he wonders if this is the proper response to interacting with Korse. If this fear was supposed to be there all this time, but it starts to settle. Like he wasn’t scared of Korse really, but of disappointing them. Because the fear morphs into something as he keeps staring at Korse, at their concerned face directed towards Gerard. 

Fascination maybe? That’s the best way he can describe this feeling because he’s not sure if he’s scared of them or if he wants to kiss them. But the longer Gerard hasn’t said anything, the more Korse’s eyebrows furrow and he knows he needs to offer them an explanation. And he's still not sure of Korse to know which route he should take with this. If they’re safe, if they’d understand why Gerard doesn’t want to be under BL/ind’s mind control any longer. But this is BL/ind’s hero. They’re the one who protects BL/ind, and enforces the rules. 

Gerard settles on something halfway in between and says, “The side effects....” And he shudders a little at how airy his voice sounds under Korse’s intense gaze. 

Korse’s face smooths and they make a sympathetic noise as they move over to sit on the edge of Gerard’s bed. Gerard holds his breath as Korse reaches out and cups his cheek. “I know the side effects can be overwhelming,” they say gently, too gently for someone who has killed so many people, “But the medication does help. If taken properly and if you communicate with your doctor.” 

Gerard feels his face slip into something pouty, like a child who has been scolded. Korse chuckles quietly, and it’s so brief Gerard wonders if he’s missed it. Korse’s hand slides to Gerard’s jaw and their thumb rests on Gerard’s bottom lip. “Even I had trouble with them in the beginning,” they say so quietly, Gerard wonders if it’s because they can’t bear for someone to know that they could have been considered weak, “But it’s better than the alternative.” 

They look up to Gerard’s eyes and tilts their head and Gerard thinks they’re going to kiss him. This is going to be it,  _ finally _ . But Korse doesn’t lean down any further, just enough for their sweet breath to blanket Gerard’s face. 

“Don’t you want to be happy?” They asks, and that accent is slipping out again. 

Gerard leans forward to taste the lingering inflection of Korse’s words on his tongue. Tastes the life that Korse had before all of this, tastes the person that they still are underneath all the chemicals BL/ind is pumping them full of. And it’s sweet, it’s something warm and cozy, a life that Gerard can see himself mixing well with. 

And because Gerard has always been greedy, he kisses them so that he can taste more. 

Korse doesn’t hesitate like Gerard thought they might. Korse’s hand that was cupping Gerard’s cheek moves to slide behind his head and tilts his face upwards so that Korse can kiss him how they want. And Gerard smiles a little at that. As if Korse is so used to being the boss, they can’t bear to let go of the reins even in this. Gerard doesn’t mind though, he lets Korse slide Gerard’s mouth open, lets them stroke the roof of his mouth with their tongue and suck on his bottom lip so hard he’s sure it’s going to swell. 

And all too soon, it’s over and Korse is framing Gerard’s face with both of their strong hands so that Gerard doesn’t chase after them. “I’m going to assume that was from your emotions being out of control after missing a dose,” Korse murmurs. 

Gerard shakes his head, because he’s wanted this before the pills even came into play. He wanted it back when he first saw Korse from the bridge, whether he realized it then or not. But when Gerard leans forward to kiss them again, Korse chuckles softly and moves to push him gently back on the bed. 

“They gave you your medication through injection to get you back up to the dosage you need,” Korse says, and Gerard’s blood runs cold. That can’t be possible, because Gerard feels fine. But that’s also what he thought the first few days when his body was adjusting. Then the confusion and messed up memories came.“I’ll tell the doctor that you need your dosage increased.” 

Gerard reaches out to grab Korse’s shirt, silky and expensive in his perpetually ink stained hand. “Please,” Gerard breathes, not sure what he’s even asking really. Surely he knows that Korse isn’t going to let him refuse to take the medicine. Isn’t going to let him break whatever twisted rules they’re supposed to enforce. 

Korse makes a soothing noise in the back of his throat, like they’re trying to calm a scared animal, and rubs at his chest. “You’ll feel better once the medicine kicks in again.” They must see the fear in Gerard’s eyes, the fear that’s starting to slip away and Gerard tries to hang onto it. He doesn’t want to sink back into the murkiness again. 

“I know it’s scary,” Korse says, “It always is when the medicine stops working. It’ll fix you though.” Gerard wants to argue, tell them that it’s the medicine that’s breaking him, but there's some part of him that trusts Korse. That wants to believe in them.

Korse stands up, fighting to not smile when Gerard makes a noise of protest, “I’ll go get your doctor. You need something extra to help you until you’re back to normal.” And then they walk out of the room, quickly and quietly, the way Gerard assumes an assassin needs to be. 

Gerard is starting to feel that barrier forming in his mind, and it’s much quicker than when he was taking the pills. He can already tell that he should be more afraid than he is, but his mind is trying to push that emotion far back into the corner of his mind. 

Korse comes back in with a doctor he hasn’t seen before. He’s tall, taller than Mikey even when he’s wearing those platform boots he likes, and his eyes look too sunken in to be considered alive. And the worst part? The worst part is that he’s carrying this very intimidating looking syringe. Ok, yeah he’s not far enough under yet to not be scared of  _ that _ . He can’t help but move away when the doctor comes near him. 

“Gerard,” Korse says firmly, and then they’re kneeling onto the bed and pushing Gerard back down so his back is pressed against the mattress. And Gerard is trying to tell that very inappropriate part of his brain that this is not the time to be thinking about Korse pinning him down onto a bed for an entirely different reason. Korse holds him down with their knees pinning Gerard’s legs and one hand pressing hard on Gerard’s shoulder while the other hand turns and holds his head against the pillows so that his neck is exposed. 

Gerard still squirms and whimpers.  _ Please _ , he wants to beg Korse again. But he doesn’t, just lets himself find the small comfort that Korse provides when they rub the base of Gerard’s skull gently with their thumb. And then, “Shh,” as Gerard cries out when he feels the prick of the needle. 

And then it’s done. 

“There you are,” the doctor says, “That should kick the lingering withdrawal symptoms. I’ve updated your prescription as well.”

Korse’s restraints loosen, but they stroke Gerard’s neck, over where the needle mark is before releasing him. 

Gerard sits up and he feels calm, eerily calm. Almost sedated and he’s heavy with it. “Ok,” Gerard says, his voice dull and hollow. 

“Very good,” the doctor says, handing Gerard the bottle of pills. Gerard takes them without hesitation. 

“Let's get you back to work,” Korse says, taking Gerard’s hand. 

Gerard feels too under to really be affected by the touch, but something stirs in his stomach. Something that’s trying to get his attention and Gerard lets it go before he considers whether it’s a good or bad thing. 

Gerard stands and Korse moves their hand to the small of Gerard’s back, leading him to Frank and his workspace. He hardly remembers the walk from the medical wing to his office with Frank, but suddenly they’re in front of the doorway.

Frank looks up, surprised and maybe even a little relieved when he sees Gerard, but then his expression twists. Gerard can’t process it though, doesn’t understand Frank’s expression. And the want to consider it is gone quickly, like it never occurred in the first place. 

“Is he ok?” Frank asks, in a tone that’s foreign to Gerard.

Korse leads Gerard to his chair then says, “He had a complication with his medication, but he’s better now,” Korse says, then looks at Frank, like he’s searching for something. 

Frank nods, his face smooth of any emotion now. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s better.” 

Korse nods, and there’s a hesitation there. Gerard doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know why, but he can tell that there’s some meaning in the way Korse and Frank exchange looks. Like they’re battling with only stares and smirks. But then someone wins, though Gerard can’t tell who, and Korse leaves without looking back at either of them. 

Frank looks at Gerard and mutters, “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get into my favorite part of the outline I have for this fic. Actually, this is one of my favorite parts. I just love writing hurt/comfort, but this is like a twisted hurt/comfort because Korse is actually hurting Gerard more, they just don't fully understand that yet. Ugh, I'm sorry, I'm getting in my feelings with my own fic. Please ignore me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love for this fic so far! You all are amazing :)

Ray stands up to try and hide the CD player when the front door opens, but it’s just Gerard so Mikey sighs and tugs on Ray’s hand. They really need a better system. 

But then Gerard steps through the door and reveals Frank, and Ray tenses up again. 

Frank’s eyes bug out of his head. “Oh my god, where did you get that?” He exclaims, nudging Gerard out of the way so he can get to the CD Player, but Ray steps in front of it and blocks Frank.

“In a minute,” Ray says, looking at Mikey and reading the distress on his face. “What’s going on?” 

Yeah, what the fuck is going on? Why does his brother look like a zombie again, and why the hell is Frank Iero in their apartment? And while Mikey’s decided that Frank isn’t totally the spawn from Satan after Gerard told Mikey how Frank had helped him the other day, he doesn’t exactly trust him either. He works at BL/iind, and Gerard says he’s been sneaking around after hours. 

Frank looks at them and sighs. “Well since I’ve seen  _ that _ , I think I can trust you guys. I need to get your brother off these meds. Oh, I’m Frank by the way,” he says, grinning at Ray like this isn’t fucking the weirdest thing. 

“Ray. And why does it matter to you if Gerard is on the meds?” Ray asks, and Mikey is glad that Ray can read the questions off Mikey’s face for him. Because none of this makes sense and Mikey would be getting worked up from all of the uncertainty if Ray wasn’t here to clear it up for him. 

“Because I need his help.” Frank says simply. 

Mikey looks at Gerard, who is sitting on the couch and looking like he’s having trouble blinking normally. Mikey squats down in front of him and brushes his hair off his forehead. Gerard’s eyes meet Mikey’s and behind the haze there, he can see how terrified his brother is. Mikey takes his hand and turns up to Ray, pleading. 

“I think you better start explaining what’s going on,” Ray says, crossing his arms. 

Frank looks longingly at the CD player, then sits on the edge of the coffee table and says, “I’m trying to blow BL/ind up.”

Mikey thinks his heart just dropped out of his ass and Ray makes a squeaking noise. 

“The blueprints,” Gerard says softly, eyes leaving Mikey’s to stare at Frank. 

Frank’s shit eating grin he’s been wearing slips into something more genuine, softer, and his eyes run over Gerard’s face like he’s taking inventory of Gerard’s state of mind right now. Huh, Mikey thinks, and when exactly did  _ that _ happen? 

“Yeah,” Frank says, “I got the job so that I could have access to the blueprints. So I can build the perfect plan to light up BL/ind.”

“But there’s people who aren’t...there’s  _ good _ people in there,” Ray grits, putting his hand on Mikey’s shoulder. 

Frank nods. “I’m not going to hurt anyone,” he says, like he’s insulted, “The bomb is going off in Tower E.” 

Tower E is just storage, a skyscraper high warehouse of things that Mikey doesn’t even want to think about. Things that they keep hidden and that not even S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W has access to. 

“So, this is just a--”

“A diversion,” Frank cuts off Ray, looking back up at him and Gerard leans forward to rest his head against Mikey’s shoulder. Mikey stiffens a little, freaked out and his mind spinning with how they’ve even gotten caught up in all this. Just a couple months ago the worst Mikey had to worry about was Gerard selling earrings under the table. Now he’s drugged up on some BL/ind concoction and they have a demolitionist in their living room. 

Mikey tilts his head to the side so it’s resting against Gerard’s and shoots Frank a look that means he better keep talking. 

Frank purses his lips like he’s trying to decide what all he should tell and Ray chimes in with a tone he’s never heard from him, “All of it. Tell us everything. If we’re going to be risking our necks for you, there can’t be any secrets.”

“I don’t think you’re in much of a situation to be making demands,” Frank says, nodding at the CD player, “One anonymous tip off and the Dracs will be here quicker than you can say ‘sorry’.”

Ray’s hand tightens on Mikey’s shoulder, and Mikey can’t help but smile a bit at the protectiveness. “You already said you needed us.”

Frank’s grin is back and he nods at Gerard. “I need  _ him _ .”

“We’re all sort of a package deal,” Ray says and Mikey feels Gerard smile against the curve of his neck. And maybe Mikey’s heart stops for a moment there. 

Frank looks like he’s considering again, but then he sighs big enough that his shoulders relax all the way. “What do you guys know about the zones?” Frank says softly, like someone could be listening at any moment. Like talking about blowing up the warehouse at BL/ind wasn’t worth hiding, but the zones are. 

“Just stories,” Ray says, purposely being vague it seems. Mikey puts a hand on Ray’s hand and squeezes, so Ray says, “And from what I hear on the radio.”

Frank’s face lights up. “You know Dr. D?”

“He’s real?” Ray asks, in an incredulous tone. And Mikey can tell that the final block of Ray’s uncertainty has slid into place. He knows that Ray’s not going to be able to come back from whatever it is that Frank is about to tell them. 

“Yeah,” Frank laughs, “He’s...well, if you help me, maybe you’ll be able to meet him.”

And that makes Gerard sit up and ask, “We’re leaving?”

Frank’s laughter quietens and he’s staring at Gerard like he’s the center of Frank’s whole universe again. And it’s weird, seeing someone look at his brother like that. Especially since Mikey is pretty sure the two of them haven’t even talked about whatever it is that’s going on between them. Gerard can be pretty thick about shit like that. “Yeah, if you want.”

“So where do I come in?” Gerard asks, struggling to get the words out, like talking about a rebellion is triggering whatever it is that BL/ind did to him. 

Frank’s face hardens a bit and he says, “I can’t stay late anymore. Korse has started to...catch on.”

Mikey doesn’t miss the exchange of looks between Frank and Gerard. And he doesn’t even know how to describe it. It’s not fear really, not in the way that Mikey would expect someone to look after getting caught by Korse. But whatever they’re saying in silence, there’s an understanding. Something in common. Mikey’s not sure he likes that his brother has an understanding about anything revolving Korse. 

“So this diversion is to distract S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W while you escape to the zones?” Ray puts together.

Frank grins. “Think bigger picture, way bigger picture.”

At some point, Mikey gets up to put some cans of soup on the stove while Frank tells them what he knows about the zones. Because he hasn’t actually been there himself. “Once you leave Battery City,” he explains, “It’s really hard to come back. And Dr. D needed me on the inside.”

So in between The Bouncing Souls and The Misfits, Frank explains how music is still very much a part of everyday life out there. They trade mix tapes like the old days, draw on the cases and leave hidden notes in the track listings. There’s bands that play in worn down buildings that are barely standing after the bombs. 

“I heard it rains acid out there,” Ray says, taking a bite of soup. 

Frank shrugs. “Yeah, but you just have to find shelter and you’ll be alright.”

But even with how much Frank knows, it’s still not a lot. Not like someone who has actually been there and Mikey gets this shiver down his spine when he realizes that whoever got Frank involved probably only told him what he needed to know, just the bare minimum to get him interested in their cause. And Mikey feels like it’s just another warped side. Another opponent in this never ending war where Mikey’s not really sure who’s the bad guy. 

“I’m going to go lay down,” Gerard wheezes, the shakes starting to take effect from him not taking his medicine. Mikey gets up to help him, but Frank beats him to it and Mikey feels a little weird about that too. Gerard and Mikey have been a duo for so long, that he almost forgets what it’s like to have other people to help. 

Ray sets a hand on Mikey’s shoulder and rubs a little. “Want to listen to Siamese Dreams again?”

*

“What did they give you?” Frank asks, untying Gerard’s boots. 

“I can get undressed myself,” Gerard says, but he doesn’t move to take over. 

Frank grins, down on his knees in front of Gerard with his hands working the knots of his boots. “Sure you can. Now answer my question.”

“I don’t know what it was,” Gerard admits, “They injected me with something to take the edge off.”

“Yeah, well it was like you were doped up on a shit done of Xanax.”

As the injection started to wear off, Gerard felt more like himself with every passing minute. When Korse had first left Gerard in his office, it felt like Gerard was underwater and he could only focus on one thing at a time. He can’t even remember what he had been working on now, just that his hand ached from drawing all day. But as time went by in their office, Gerard started to surface from the water, enough that Frank put a hand on his back and said, “You with me, Gee?”

Gerard had nodded slowly and kept his eyes on him. There was a scream very far away crying out for help, but Gerard couldn’t reach it. Frank must have understood though, because he walked Gerard home. 

And then told them about the zones. 

Frank gets Gerard’s shoes off then grins and Gerard rolls his eyes, “I can get the rest, thanks.”

Frank laughs, but he turns like a gentleman even though Gerard knows that he turned to peek while Gerard stumbled into some pajama pants. “Are you staying?” Gerard asks when Frank lifts the blankets for Gerard to get settled. 

“Nah, I have some stuff I have to take care of,” Frank says like it’s no big deal, but Gerard sees a flash of concern in his eyes. 

“I’m fine. Mikey and Ray are here,” Gerard assures him. 

Frank tucks the blankets in around Gerard and he nods. 

“Why are you…?” But Gerard trails off because he’s not really sure what he’s asking. 

“I don’t know,” Frank frowns, fiddling with the edge of Gerard’s blanket, “Does it matter?”

Gerard looks up at him and whispers, “Maybe not yet.”

Frank grins and lets go of his blanket. “Not yet,” he agrees.

The next morning is hell just like it had been his first day trying to detox. Luckily, Frank tells him as he comes into the office, “Korse is in the zones today, so feel free to cry like the little bitch you are.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, but he sees the grin on Frank’s face and he wonders if this new alliance is growing into something much more than a lookout for Frank’s plan. Mikey had came in to check in on Gerard and gave him a look like  _ what the fuck are you doing? _ And Gerard could only sigh and say, “I have no idea.”

Frank doesn’t even try to hide that he’s working on his plan to blow up Tower E anymore, just pulls out all the blueprints that Gerard had been trying to catch him looking at for weeks. Gerard angles his seat so that he’d be able to see anyone coming down the hall and pulls out his work for the prison. 

“How long have you been working on this?” Gerard asks.

Frank grins. “This isn’t my first act of rebellion.”

“In general, or while working for BL/ind?” Gerard asks with a raised eyebrow, because how has he been able to get away with all this?

“When I first got hired on as an architect, I started making escape routes within the buildings,” Frank explains and Gerard drops his pencil, which makes Frank smile and continue, “Especially for orphanages. You don’t...do you know what they do to kids who were misplaced by the war?”

Gerard’s heart feels like it’s going to shatter. He feels so fragile already and knows that he shouldn’t bring up topics like this while he’s still detoxing, while his emotions are already all over the place. “No, what?” Gerard whispers. 

Frank sets down the blueprint he was looking at and sets his jaw. “They dose them up when they’re young so that they never experience the emotions that we have. They don’t get to know what they’re missing out, it makes it more likely that they won’t rebel.”

Gerard’s blood boils, and he’s not typically an angry guy. Gerard thinks he’s always been pretty good at being calm and that he can channel that energy into creating instead of destroying, but there’s white hot anger coursing through his veins and he doesn’t even realize he’s done anything until Frank is on him and pushing him down against the carpet. 

Gerard blinks and realizes the door has been shut and Frank is pinning Gerard’s writs hard against the floor. “Hey, snap out of it,” Frank bites. 

The anger isn’t gone though. Because hearing Frank’s voice just reminds him of what he’s doing. The bomb. The blueprints. The CD player. Pills. Korse. Gerard feels like they’re all pumping down his bloodstream in thick clots and any one of them will reach his heart and stop it. He thinks that any minute he’s going to self destruct because no one should ever feel this anger. This pain. Gerard can’t believe this is his life. Can’t believe that once upon a time he was worried about  _ loneliness _ . Fucking loneliness when there’s people disapearing everyday here in the city. Where Mikey won’t talk. Where there’s a rebellion building that Gerard didn’t even know existed. Where Frank is risking his life to escape, to get others out to. Where there’s a place that could be better, but it could also be worse and

He feels Frank’s lips on his and Gerard instantly kisses back, kisses fiercely and biting just like that first time. And it’s only then, after he’s able to focus on just  _ Frank Frank Frank _ that he realizes his throat is scratchy. Probably from screaming. Screaming that he doesn’t remember doing. 

Frank won’t let go of Gerard’s wrists and Gerard tugs against his fingers just to feel them tighten and threaten bruising. He bites Frank’s lower lip hard enough to make Frank yelp and bite back harder. And when Gerard tastes a whisper of metallic on his tongue, he grins.

Frank chuckles to himself, probably at Gerard’s emotions going back and forth and he knows he’s acting like a mad man, but he just hasn’t felt anything like this in so long. He didn’t realize how much emotions mattered when he’s kissing someone. How it feels even more electrifying to have Frank kiss down to his jaw and suck against his soft bone structure. How it makes his hips snap forward when he feels Frank’s knee come between his thighs and press up against him. 

He would be embarrassed of himself, he  _ should _ be, for rubbing himself against Frank’s knee and letting out a soft whine. Frank just chuckles darkly and murmurs something along the lines of “so needy” and he sits up on his knees to pull at Gerard’s slacks. 

But the minute Frank’s hands come off Gerard’s wrists, he’s sitting up too and gripping at Frank. Rubbing his hands down Frank’s chest before slipping his hands under Frank’s shirt to pull it up so he can see all those tattoos again. He gets the fabric off and to the floor before he latches his lips to the scorpion tattoo on his neck and  _ sucks _ . 

“Fuck,” Frank groans then he pushes Gerard back down onto the carpet. Gerard tries to fight him, hands tangling in a battle of dominance before Frank pulls his own belt off and secures Gerard’s wrists in them. Gerard shivers at the sound of the leather sliding into the buckle and then Frank is restraining him and shoving his arms over his head. “Now,” Frank breathes, “Don’t move.”

The anger he had is still bubbling under his skin, is still needing to be released or he thinks he’s going to explode. Gerard tries to sit up and Frank grits, “You just don’t listen,” Before shoving Gerard’s slacks down low enough on his thighs to free his cock and Gerard forgets the fight he had in him once Frank wraps his hand around him, stroking up slowly and palming at the head. Gerard moans lowly, snapping his head back to the carpet and letting his eyes flutter close. 

It’s more than just getting off. There’s this swirl of  _ he’s got you, you’re ok, he’s got you _ in his head that’s making it even harder to breathe. “That’s it,” Frank praises softly, “Just let me take care of you.”

Gerard’s hips rock up to meet Frank’s torturous slow strokes and Frank chuckles and pushes down on Gerard’s hip with his free hand. “Thought I told you not to move.”

Gerard snaps his eyes open and glares at him, moving to lift his arm so that he can grab Frank’s hair and just kiss the shit out of his already swollen lips but he feels the belt strain against his arms and he groans in frustration. He snaps his hips up at Frank’s next stroke, knocking the hand that was holding his hip down out of the way. 

Frank huffs a laugh and sits back on his knees to unzip his own slacks. Gerard licks his lips when Frank’s cock springs free, already glistening at the head from precome and Gerard leans forward for a taste. Frank tsks at him and shifts so that his legs are pinning Gerard’s down and when Gerard opens his mouth to protest, Frank shoves his fingers into his mouth. 

“No lube in here, babe,” Frank whispers, “Better get them nice and wet for me.”

Gerard moans around Frank’s fingers, sucking at them to coat his tongue in Frank’s taste. Gerard makes a good show at swirling his tongue around Frank’s fingers before he swears and removes them, his mouth going slack at the string of spit that pulls from Gerard’s lower lip. 

He’s about to beg, plead unashamed but before he has the chance, Frank rocks his hips forward against Gerards and their cocks slide against each other. “Fuck me,” Gerard groans, throwing his head back and he feels Frank shudder. 

“Not this time,” Frank breathes, wrapping a hand around both of them when Gerard whines. He leans down and brushes his lips against Gerard’s ear and whispers, “But I will, fuck, I will.”

Gerard can’t even come up with a response to that because his whole body has reduced to nothing but his nerves screaming out in pleasure. Can’t think about anything but the waves of heat rocking though his lower belly and thighs. Doesn’t have anything circling in his mind besides  _ Frank Frank Frank _ and he thinks maybe he’s chanting Frank’s name, but he doesn’t care. Especially since it seems to be spurring Frank on, rocking them together and tightinening his hand around the head of Gerard’s cock before sliding down to cup his balls and play with the weight in his palm. Gerard whines and tries to thrust forward, but Frank’s knees are pinning him down and when he wraps his hand around them both again, Gerard stops trying to fight and just lets Frank have his way with him. 

“Good,” Frank breathes, “So good.” 

Frank’s starting to pick up the pace and Gerard wants to tell him that he’s close, but he’s sure Frank isn’t far behind with the way his hips are bucking erratically and his teeth are digging into his lower lip to keep from crying out. 

“Please,” Gerard breathes when the heat starts building and his limbs lock up, and he’s not sure why he’s pleading with Frank. 

“Come on, Gee,” Frank encourages, thrusting against Gerard faster and then groans and Gerard feels the rush of hot, stickiness against his cock and Frank’s hand. It’s all Gerard needs to lose himself in the heat and come, shaking and Frank covers his mouth as he cries out. Frank keeps stroking him through it, milking him even though Gerard’s shirt is coated and stuck to his chest. “That’s it, so good for me,” Frank whispers as the last shocks work their way through Gerard and he goes slack against the carpet. 

Frank grins and kisses him sloppily before getting off him and laying down next to him, his breath as harsh as Gerard’s. 

Gerard struggles at the belt and Frank laughs breathily, leaning over to undo it then pulling Gerard’s arms gently down to his sides and rubbing at his biceps. “Good?”

Gerard huffs a laugh and says, “They should recommend orgasms to soothe withdrawal symptoms.”

Frank’s laugh this time comes out full and loud.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments for the last chapter were amazing! Thank you so much! I'm so glad you all are enjoying this fic, it's definitely put me outside of my comfort zone but has become one of my favorite fics to write.

The following days get easier. 

Frank had walked Gerard home the last few nights, having to open the door for him when Gerard’s hands shook too much to get his key into the lock. Mikey would always smile knowingly and then tempt Frank into staying a bit with a turn on the CD player. Little brothers were kinda the best sometimes. 

And for a while, Gerard felt happy. Not just content or feeling like he was settling, he really felt happy about his life. He knows that should be weird in the world they’re living in at the moment, but the warm feeling in his heart hasn’t dissipated. Coming home to see Mikey sorting through the new CDs that Ray found at work or watching Ray build more radios in their living room was making Gerard feel like they were living again. Not just being alive, but actually living and  _ trying _ . 

Frank seemed like the catalyst for that, he gave them this newfound purpose. He brought back tokens that his informant had given him, little shiny bits of proof that the zones really existed and that there were people out there. Gerard’s hand had traced over the bright yellow mask, he grinned at the clicheness of it and had immediately loved it.

Some nights felt like summer camp. The ones where Gerard will pile up on the couch with Mikey, Ray, and Frank while they take turns replaying the same CDs they’ve all heard countless times by now. Mikey will lean back against the arm of the couch and look at Ray like he’s the sun that Mikey hasn’t seen for years, practically glowing whenever Ray is telling a story about his time in various bands back home. 

Home, they’ve all come to some nonverbal understanding, is always New Jersey. Especially for Frank, who often gets riled up like a tiny dog whenever someone might hint at the fact that they’re more Jersey than Frank. No one is more Jersey than Frank. 

And it makes Gerard feel prideful and a hit of nostalgia whenever Frank talks about New Jersey, because he paints it so vividly that Gerard can practically taste the dingy beer stained bar air on his tongue. Can feel the grime from the pollution and cigarette smoke on his clothes and can hear the honking of cars followed by the rush of a train and some mother yelling out the door to her kids to get in before the streetlights come on. Gerard hadn’t realized how much a place could still settle in his bones until Frank talked about home.

Work was better now that Frank and Gerard were on the same page. Gerard would keep an eye out for Frank while he made notes in a notebook that didn’t make any sense to Gerard. But Frank kept looking at blueprints with his lip between his teeth, tongue flicking out to the spot where his piercing used to be and it always made Gerard fantasize about feeling metal against his lips when Frank would kiss him. 

Which he had, and some other things that always made Gerard’s cheeks ablaze whenever he thought about it. Frank always gave him a knowing grin, and maybe wiggled his eyebrows if he wanted to see Gerard go even redder, whenever he caught Gerard’s eyes going dazy with memories. 

When Korse came back from the zones, Frank kept the door open which was alright now that the last of the withdrawal symptoms had left Gerard finally. Gerard had thought that maybe that would end whatever was going on with him and Frank. That the, um, sex stuff was just to distract Gerard from the emotional onslaught of getting off the pills and him walking Gerard home was just out of concern that he might pass out again. And him staying late into the night was just because of the access to music. Not because of Gerard, obviously. 

So it sorta surprises Gerard when Frank comes into their office and sets his belongings down before walking over to tilt Gerard’s chin up and kiss him. “It’s not just because you were detoxing,” Frank murmurs against Gerard’s lips, slightly opened from the gasp that Frank caught in his mouth. Gerard just nods slowly, eyes glued to Frank’s. Frank gives him another purposeful look before retreating back to his side of the table. 

This morning Frank is more desperate with his sketches, erasing so hard at one point that he tears his paper. 

“Frank?”

Frank sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been told that we need to hurry,” he sighs. 

Gerard furrows his brow. “By who?”

Frank looks up and purses his lips. “I can’t tell you that yet, Gee. It’s not that I don’t trust you it’s just...they come and go from the city too often to give up a name.”

Gerard nods, feeling a little winded by that explanation. Sometimes he forgets how conspiratorial everything about his life has gotten. Forgets that he’s working for a government that’s trying to dictate how everyone lives down to the emotions they’re allowed to feel. Forgets that he’s somehow found himself in with the rebellion, that he’s falling for a demolitionist for said rebellion. 

He tries a different question, “Why do you need to hurry?”

Frank seems more resolved to answer that one and sets his pencil down. “We don’t know much, but there’s talk of BL/ind working on another method for...obedience.” 

Gerard feels a shiver go down his spine. “The pills aren’t enough?”

Frank shrugs. “You know now that the pills aren’t really a long term solution,” he says, frowning a bit and Gerard sees the way his shoulders stiffen, “There’s some people who are at such high doses that they’re going to be immune to them all together.”

Korse, Gerard realizes, Frank is talking about Korse. “So what are they going to do instead?”

“Something that will wipe a person clean so that BL/ind can hardware them the way they want,” Frank says bitterly, picking up his pencil again and Gerard knows that means the conversation is over. 

Except, that’s the moment when Korse walks in and Gerard has this panicked suspicion that he had heard their conversation. But the panic morphs into worry when he sees how red Korse’s eyes are again. Their skin looks pale and papery, like it’ll just fall off at any moment. Gerard has to clasp his hands together to keep from reaching out to them. 

“There’s a board meeting today,” Korse says, their voice still smooth despite his appearance. 

Gerard chances a look at Frank and notices that he’s looking at Korse with the same level of concern as Gerard, if not more. 

“I’d like the two of you to give a short presentation to The Director for our project,” Korse continues and Gerard feels his hands start to sweat. 

“When?” Frank asks, his voice seemingly unimpressed. 

“Now,” Korse says, gesturing for them to follow, “Come quickly or we’ll be late.”

Gerard feels Frank’s shock hit him from the other side of the room. This didn’t seem like Korse at all, they wouldn’t chance the project with lack of preparation. But Korse is peering down at him with narrowed eyes, a stare of dominance that Gerard suspects is to hide the pleading they would have done if they weren’t in their current position of power. Gerard gets up and gathers his papers, Frank busies himself with looking like he’s gathering his own belongings when really he’s hiding the ones for the bomb. Korse folds their hands in front of them which shouldn’t be as threatening as it feels. 

Frank brushes Gerard’s hand as they walk down the hall behind Korse and Gerard reaches out to squeeze his fingertips briefly before anyone gets the chance to notice. When Korse brings them to the elevator, Gerard balks at the sight of Korse hitting the highest level of the tower. He hadn’t thought they were going to The Director’s floor, assuming that she would come down so that staff as low as he and Frank wouldn’t tarnish her glittery offices. 

The top floor is brighter than the lower ones, so bright that Gerard squints a bit at all the white everywhere. Frank and him look highly out of place amongst the well dressed business people who skirt by them with urgency. Korse leads them down a hallway engulfed with windows and Gerard has to focus on looking straight ahead so he doesn’t see how high up they really are. 

When they reach a conference room, Gerard wants to take Frank’s hand again but he just grips his papers tighter. Korse ushers them inside and Gerard stares at the row of faces he’s seen on the television or on billboards throughout the city. The board members of BL/ind are a mix of decorated war heros from the Helium Wars and those that The Director deem the brightest with the most initiative for Better Life Industries. 

On the end closest to Gerard is a young woman with dull mousy hair who he recognizes as head of broadcasting. Ray talked enough about her for Gerard to not like her and her policies of destroying any trace of music or television that had existed before the bombs. Next to her is the head of medicine, who Gerard’s seen on all the commercials for the BL/ind pills. They may be the scariest person Gerard’s ever seen with their permanent composed expression, completely void of emotions. There’s the tall, burly man who runs “agriculture” though Gerard knows what he really does is oversee the production of more processed foods. He’s not the scientist who makes the genetically modified foods though, that’s the slender blond man sitting just next to him. He’s the head scientist and the way his mechanical eyes shift and zoom in on Gerard makes his skin crawl. He had lost his sight to a chemical burn, which makes his invention of mechanical eyeballs all that more impressive. At least to The Director who Gerard is just noticing in the middle. Her build is small and frail, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and her bangs hanging just over her dark eyes. She doesn’t look intimidating at all, though Gerard supposes that’s her biggest strength.

“Korse,” she says with the same robotic tone that reminds Gerard of the receptionist downstairs in the main lobby, “How lovely to see you back from the zones. Another success I take it?”

“As always,” Korse replies and Gerard notices their hand shaking down by their side. Gerard doesn’t know why he does it, isn’t sure why he doesn’t think it’s a big deal, but he reaches down to hold their hand still. 

Korse inhales sharply and withdraws their hand from Gerard’s to hold them behind their back. “Mr. Iero and his associate Mr. Way are here to discuss my proposal of a new holding unit.”

Gerard knows that’s their cue to start talking, but his mouth feels like sandpaper as he stares at Korse. He sees the twitch in Korse’s jaw, how their blinking is more rapid than it ought to be and how their hands still shake despite how white their knuckles are from holding them together tightly. The pills must not be doing enough for them, and Gerard wonders how high of a dose they must have Korse on for them to do what they do everyday. To do what constitutes as a ‘success’ in the zones. 

And then Gerard recalls the conversation he had with Frank just before Korse had retrieved them.  _ There’s some people who are at such high doses that they’re going to be immune to them all together.  _ He remembers the way Frank had tensed when he talked about Korse, and how distressed he had looked when he revealed that BL/ind are looking into ways of wiping someone clean. Gerard doesn’t know how much more someone like Korse could take, and the idea of them being stripped of the few remaining glimpses of their humanity is nauseating. Gerard wonders who Korse would be without the slip of an accent or the quirk of an amused eyebrow, slight mentions at their past personality that Gerard has been craving more of. 

Korse catches Gerard staring and quirks their eyebrow, and Gerard can’t help but smile a little at it. Korse’s eyes drift over Gerard’s face and land on his lips, and Gerard wonders if they’re thinking about the kiss from the medical wing the same way that Gerard is. 

Frank clears his throat and Gerard snaps his head to him. He gives him a look like  _ not here _ and then starts talking about their project. 

*

Mikey jumps when he sees a different person in Alex’s station. It’s been weeks, but Mikey had childishly hoped that Alex would return. The petite redhead standing next to him solidifies that Alex won’t be seen again. Mikey’s hit with the image of Mrs. Newman again, scared and frail standing outside her apartment. He wonders if Alex was afraid when they came for him, if he tried to put up a fight or if he simply accepted the unknown. 

When Mikey takes the mail to broadcasting, he tends to linger in Ray’s department a lot longer than necessary. It was pretty amusing for Mikey to find out that Ray’s job is to fix broken systems for BL/ind and he starts to understand how Ray gets his hands on so much equipment. 

Ray likes to sneak Mikey into the storage room where they keep all the CDs waiting to be accounted for and then destroyed. It’s always hard for Mikey to just pick one or, if Ray is feeling bold, two but Mikey holds out hope that this won’t be the last time he sees some of these titles. 

Ray must see the dread on Mikey’s face as he walks into his department this morning because he puts an arm around his shoulder and quickly leads him away from wandering eyes. They end up in that same restroom that they met in. Mikey feels like that was so long ago, but he knows it’s not. Time has been really odd since BL/ind took over. No one marks the dates on anything and with it being perpetually spring, Mikey’s not sure how long it’s even been since the bombs dropped. 

Gerard used to keep count of the days. He had a tally mark going in one of his notebooks, but after the raids started getting closer to their apartment, he destroyed everything that might seem suspicious. Which is funny now that they’re hiding a CD player and a healthy stack of CDs under their floorboards. 

Sometimes when Mikey looks like he’s having a rough day, Gerard will bring home a cake and pretend it’s Mikey’s birthday since they don’t really know when it is anymore. Mikey’s pretty sure he’s had more birthdays than how old he really is, but he also likes the idea that he’s older than how he feels. Because there’s some comfort in knowing that childhood never really dies. 

“Mikes,” Ray whispers, shaking his shoulders a little and Mikey blinks rapidly to try and stay in the present with Ray instead of falling into his head like he does when things get scary. “Hey, what happened?”

And Mikey knows that it’s just a knee jerk reaction for Ray to ask what’s wrong even though Mikey won’t answer, but it hurts today. It makes him feel small in the worst ways and like he’s failing some test he doesn’t even know the questions to. 

“Mikey,” Ray says even gentler, letting his hand cup his shoulder and tug in his soft way of asking if it’s okay to hug him. 

Mikey nods and leans into Ray, letting out a long exhale as Ray’s arms wrap around Mikey’s boney shoulders. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. Gerard’s not going to let anything happen to you,” Ray tells him and Mikey’s heart swells at the fact that Ray knows Gerard comes first. That he’s always going to come first. “And I’m not going to let anything happen to you either. Neither is Frank. We’re all a team now, Mikeyway.”

*

“What the hell was that?” Frank growls once they’re back in their office. 

Gerard flinches and looks out their door to see if anyone is lingering in the hallways. “What was what?” He asks stupidly. 

Frank gives him an exasperated look and says, “You know what. Don’t play dumb, it’s not cute.”

Gerard bites at his lip and says “Korse’s hands were shaking.”

Frank just looks at him like he’s got three heads and then gestures that Gerard should continue. “And?”

“And Ray told me that’s what happens when someone’s dosage of pills is off,” Gerard explains, though he’s pretty sure Frank knows all this, “That’s what happened to me.”

Frank nods, and sighs. “Ok, why does that matter?”

_ It matters because if I’m going to get through to him, now is the time _ his brain supplies and that sorta makes Gerard do a double take. Because he hadn’t really thought he’d chosen a side. Even with all that’s happened to him, Gerard isn’t sure if he’s on the good guy’s team or the bad guy’s. He’s not really sure there are clear and cut teams like that. 

Gerard doesn’t say any of this though, and clearly he doesn’t need to because Frank is in front of him and cupping his cheek. “Gee, no,” he breathes. 

“We have to help him,” Gerard protests softly. 

Frank huffs and drops his hand. “You realize he’s part of the problem right?” He asks, starting to pace a bit, “He’s literally the enemy we’re trying to take down. They’re the leader, Gerard. There’s no  _ saving _ them.”

“I don’t think it’s that black and white,” Gerard says, frowning at him. He thought that Frank of all people would understand. 

“BL/ind is literally all black and white,” Frank grits. 

“Well maybe that’s the problem,” Gerard challenges, “We’ve stopped looking for colors, for different shades and things that don’t make sense. If we stop caring about the messy stuff, then how does that make us any better than them?”

Frank just stares at him for a bit and Gerard can see his words bouncing around Frank’s mind until Frank comes to some sort of conclusion. “You can’t save them. And I can’t let you jeopardize what we’re doing to scratch that savior’s complex you’ve got going on.” 

Gerard just huffs a laugh, but it stings. He knows he’s the type of person to help anyone off the ground after they’ve fallen, foe or not. And he’s always been so empathetic that sometimes it clouds his better judgement. The truth is that Gerard can find the good in everyone and he thinks that finding that means someone deserves to be saved. He’s always thought of that as a good trait to have, but maybe it’s hindering him from seeing the bigger picture Frank wants him to see. 

But he knows he’s not wrong about Korse. He knows that there’s something there because he’s not the only one who’s seen it. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at them,” Gerard says quietly. 

Frank’s nostrils flare and he says, “I don’t--” but Gerard raises an eyebrow, so he sighs and sits down, “It doesn’t matter.”

Gerard walks over to where he’s sitting and slides into his lap carefully. He half expects Frank to just shove him off, but Frank anchors his arms around Gerard’s hips to keep him in place. “You didn’t give up on me,” Gerard points out quietly, “When I got back on the pills, you took me home and you fought for me to detox.”

“I needed you for my plan,” Frank shrugs. 

Gerard lets that sting for a moment, then realizes it’s just Frank covering up his feelings. A defense mechanism, because he doesn’t have the pills to do it for him. “I don’t believe you.” 

Frank chuckles and pulls Gerard in closer, brushing his lips against Gerard’s. “Does it matter?” Frank asks, echoing the question he had asked when Gerard wondered why Frank was helping him in the first place. 

Gerard sighs, “Not yet,” wondering when it will. 

He jumps a little when Frank pats the side of his thigh and grins, “Come on, get back to work you slacker.”

Gerard laughs a little, letting Frank’s mischievous grin wash over him and loosen some of the tightness in his chest. 

He does end up getting out of Frank’s lap eventually, only after stealing a kiss or two (or ten), and sits back at his end of the table. It’s hard getting back into work after the excitement of the afternoon, but he makes his mind focus with the reminder that The Director had liked the work they made and they’d been given the ok to start construction once they found the perfect site. 

At the end of the day, Gerard lingers by his chair as Frank waits by the door. He looks like he’s going to ask what’s wrong, but then he fixes Gerard with a knowing look and it sort of makes Gerard’s heart somersault at the idea that Frank  _ knows _ him already. He sighs and walks over slowly to Gerard before pressing a soft kiss to the middle of his forehead. “Be careful,” Frank murmurs. 

Gerard nods. “See you later, Frankie.”

Frank’s eyes blaze, and Gerard wonders what’s going on behind them. If he’s concerned about Gerard’s wellbeing. If he’s jealous. Jealous of Gerard or Korse though, Gerard’s not so sure. Frank doesn’t say anything, and he turns and leaves quickly as if he doesn’t trust himself to be around Gerard any longer. 

Gerard waits until he’s sure Frank’s made it to the elevators before slipping out into the hallway and making the familiar walk to S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. The unit is fuller than it has been the last few times Gerard has been by and it sorta makes his skin crawl. Dracs swarm around like there’s an immediate danger they need to handle right this second. A few of them turn their heads at Gerard, and it deeply unnerves Gerard that he can’t see their eyes. Can’t see what expressions, and he has to shake his head to clear the thoughts of what Dracs are actually before he starts thinking of possibilities that might give him nightmares. 

He makes it to Korses office and hesitates outside the door. As if they can feel Gerard nearby, Korse raises their head and they sit back in their chair with a wary expression. They raise their hand like a gesture for Gerard to come in. 

Gerard does and shuts the door behind him which makes Korse sigh, “What is it?”

Bravery has been sort of a stranger lately, but Gerard walks around Korse’s desk and stands in front of them. Korse turns their chair so that they’re facing each other and they look--Gerard’s never seen emotion as clear as it is on Korse’s face--they look afraid. Gerard feels his heart clench at the stark terror on their face, how it’s widened Korse’s dark eyes, turned their lips downward and flushed their cheeks. How it’s making their chest rise and fall rapidly and when Gerard sees the first streak of a tear, Gerard leans in and kisses it away.

When he looks up, Gerard sees Korse look distraught and confused.“I-I don’t-wha--”

Gerard shushes them gently and kisses them, soft and short. “I know it’s scary,” Gerard whispers, “But just feel, Korse.” 

Korse lets out a soft sound that’s almost a sob before kissing him back and Gerard is surprised how much it stirs him to taste Korse’s tears. How it tastes like Korse giving something real to Gerard, letting him see what they wouldn’t dare show anyone outside this office. Korse stands up and pushes Gerard gently back against his desk, leaning over him and hooking his hands under Gerard’s knees to help him on top of it. 

Gerard knows that he needs to slow down. That getting caught like this with Korse probably wouldn’t be good for either of them. That, and he’s still not quite sure how Frank fits into all this. If Frank and Gerard are  _ together _ or if this is allowed. Especially since Frank feels the same for Korse. 

But as Gerard tries to pull away from Korse’s feverish lips, Korse whispers, “Come home with me.” 

Gerard nods. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have an update schedule if I tried, so here's a new chapter already.

The moment Gerard gets through the door, he pulls at Korse’s ridiculous shirt and grins when one of the buttons pops off and hits the wooden floor. Korse chuckles and walks him back against the wall slowly, bringing their hands up to rest on either side of his face. “Impatient?” They asks cooly, as if they hadn’t been practically vibrating in their office. 

Gerard waits, his breath coming out in quick spurts and he wonders if Korse can hear his thundering heart. He feels like a mouse caught by a cat, a very curious cat that’s content with batting him around for a few hours just for their enjoyment. And Gerard is more than willing. 

Gerard leans his head back against the wall and stares at Korse. At the way their cheeks are flushed and their lips are still a bit swollen from the kisses in their office. They look so beautiful like this. So full of life that Gerard reaches out to them and has to touch. He brings his fingertips up to Korse’s temples. Korse closes their eyes and lets out a shuddering exhale, like Gerard’s soft touch is bringing them agony. Gerard’s fingertips trace down over Korse’s eyelids, feeling how they flutter under his touch. He traces over the bridge of their nose, up their cheekbones and follows their bone structure towards their ears. Gerard smiles at the way just the simplest touch has Korse’s lips trembling as if it’s been years since anyone has touched them like this. Gerard takes Korse’s earlobes in between his fingers and rubs at the soft flesh, smiles at the way their cheeks flush more before sliding his fingertips down to their jaw and then up to their soft lips. 

“Kiss me,” Gerard breathes. 

Korse opens their eyes and takes Gerard’s hands into theirs, pulling his fingers away from Korse’s mouth so that they can kiss him. 

It’s slow and inquisitive as if this was the first time they kissed. Korse takes their time to trace the roof of Gerard’s mouth with their tongue, to suck his lower lip and graze their teeth over the newly sensitive flesh. Gerard’s hands find themselves under Korse’s shirt, sliding up their warm chest and bringing up the fabric. Korse laughs a little against Gerard’s lips when Gerard makes a frustrated noise as the shirt gets caught on the equally ridiculous jacket Korse is wearing. 

“Off,” Gerard demands and Korse smirks, leaning back and raising an eyebrow, so Gerard amends, “Please.”

Korse’s face melts into something that Gerard would think is fond, something affectionate and he’s a bit winded by that, even more so when Korse strips down in front of him. Gerard’s mouth runs dry as Korse reaches for his belt and then he springs into action, covering their hands and begging, “Let me do that.”

Korse removes their hands slowly, almost lazy and watches Gerard undo their belt with heavy lidded eyes. Gerard shivers at the sound of the belt sliding against the fabric of Korse’s pants, and then at the clattering sound of the metal hitting the floor. He keeps his eyes down from Korse’s stare as he unbuttons their pants and slides them over their thighs, watching the fabric pool at their ankles. 

Gerard swallows and stares at Korse’s boots just long enough to gather his courage before dropping to his knees to untie them. 

“Gerard,” Korse says, their voice sounding strained.

Gerard looks up through his lashes and watches as Korse reaches down to card their fingers through his messy hair. “You don’t realize how special you are, do you?” Korse continues softly, tugging gently at his hair. Gerard just leans up to press a kiss to their wrist before looking back down so he can get their boots off. Once he does, Korse steps out of them and then their pants. 

“Come with me, please,” Korse says, tugging on Gerard’s hair as a gesture that he should follow. 

Gerard is tempted to just crawl after them, and his cheeks heat at that image. And that  _ want _ that’s so encompassing it’s making him ache. 

But he doesn’t. Instead he stands on shaky legs and follows Korse into the bedroom. Korse takes Gerard’s hand and brings him in front of the bed, turning him around so he’s facing it instead of them and it makes his heart pound that he can’t see them. 

He feels them though. Feels their nose trail across the back of his neck as they inhale, the stretch of their lips over the knob of his spine as they smile at the shiver that works its way through Gerard’s taut muscles. Their hands come around to Gerard’s waist, pulling him back against Korse for a moment. And the press of their bodies, the hardness he feels against his ass, is enough for him to beg, “Please.”

“In time,” Korse murmurs, “What’s the rush?”

Gerard takes a deep breath to steady himself, to try and coax his flipping stomach to cool it. 

“That’s it,” Korse praises softly, letting their fingers slip under the hem of Gerard’s shirt and stroke softly at the skin there. They press sweet, closed mouthed kisses along the back of Gerard’s neck and just lets him stand there and breathe. 

After a few moments, after Gerard’s shoulders drop and his head bows forward a little, Korse moves up the buttons of Gerard’s shirt and takes their time to undo each one. They slide the shirt off his arms and then presses hot, open mouthed kisses against his bare shoulders as their hands travel down to undo his buckle and button to his slacks. They hook their thumb into the waistband of his pants and briefs before pulling them down to his thighs. 

“Turn around,” Korse orders quietly. 

Gerard turns and meets Korse’s eyes, intense and burning like they’re trying to keep himself in check despite the clear desire to take their time. Their strong hands slide back up to Gerard’s chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples before they push him gently on the bed. 

They smirks a bit before getting on their knees in front of him and undoing his shoes the same way that Gerard had done for Korse. And Gerard realizes why it had made Korse sound like they had been strangled. The image of Korse on their knees before him stirs something in his stomach, something that wakes up nerve endings he didn’t even know he had. 

Korse slides off his pants and briefs all the way down his thighs and off his calves. They set one of Gerard’s feet back down against the floor, but holds the other one. Gerard falls onto his back against the mattress as he feels Korse press a kiss to the sole of his foot and then moans when he feels the scrape of his teeth curving along the arch of his foot. Korse sucks at his ankle and then peppers kisses up his shin before swirling their tongue over his knee cap. 

“Korse,” Gerard begs weakly. 

“Shh,” Korse soothes, but continues their slow tortuous journey up Gerard’s body. They tastes their way up Gerard’s thighs, biting down at the part that always jiggles much to Gerard’s displeasure. Korse revels in it though, sinking their teeth into the flesh only to soothe over it with warm flicks of their tongue. It seems to take them hours just to move up to his hips, completely ignoring his hard and leaking coak that’s begging for attention. 

Instead Korse trails kisses up his stomach, pausing to dip their tongue into Gerard’s belly button, before bringing a nipple into their mouth and sucking  _ hard _ . Gerard arches off the bed, crying out and feeling sparks shoot off somewhere in his mind. He swears he smells smoke, swears he’s about to die right here and now at the hands of BL/ind’s lead assassin. 

And just when he thinks his body is adapting to Korse, they bring the other nipple into their mouth and bite down gently. “Korse, please.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Korse chuckles, and then wraps a hand around Gerard’s cock, and fuck if he thought he was about to die before. “Is this what you want?” Korse asks, stroking up and down leisurely. 

Yes. No. More, fuck, fuck. 

Korse seems to take pity and palms at the sticky head of his cock before picking up the pace a bit. Gerard moans loudly, hoping Korse doesn’t have any nosey neighbors, and rocks his hips forward into Korse’s touch. It’s so fucking good, but it’s not enough. It’s not what Gerard is looking for and he can’t help the frustrated sound that escapes his lips. 

Korse hums and removes his hand, causing Gerard to whine. He doesn’t know when he’s been reduced to nothing but caveman noises, but Korse tsks at him and fumbles at the nightstand that Gerard hadn’t even bothered to notice. He hadn’t noticed Korse’s bedroom really at all despite the fact that there was a bed and they were going to do delicious things in it. 

Korse comes back to him and kisses him, hungrier than their previous kisses but just as thorough. Gerard hears a snap of a bottle opening and then it registers when he feels Korse’s slick fingers pressing against his entrance. Gerard whispers, “Please” and it’s apparently what Korse was waiting for because they slide two fingers in gentle but deliberate, scissoring them and then he hears Korse hum when Gerard cries out at the hot sparkes that burn through him. 

Gerard rocks back against Korse’s fingers, his voice lost in the gasps and whispered pleads that bounce off the walls of the bedroom. Korse mouths at his chest, nibbles at his nipples again as they press in a third finger. 

“Fuck,” Gerard moans, “Korse, please, please just fuck me already.”

Korse doesn’t chuckle this time, doesn’t hum or try to soothe him. Instead they groan like they’re fucking dying and Gerard thinks  _ finally _ . Korse wraps their hands around Gerard’s thighs and pulls them apart slowly before settling between them. They lean down to kiss him, capturing the gasp Gerard makes as Korse pushes into him. 

The stretch burns and Gerard inhales sharply, causing Korse to pause and rub slow circles against Gerard’s hips with their thumbs. “Easy,” they murmur softly, waiting for Gerard to breathe through it and relax before continuing. Gerard’s shaking by the time Korse’s hips kiss his and they lean down to rest their forehead against Gerard’s. Gerard tilts his head up and kisses them desperately, pouring every ounce of the pulsing emotion that’s flooding him. He’d think he was detoxing with how unsteady he feels, but Korse brings a hand up to Gerard’s heart and rubs gently. 

He lets the touch calm the frenzy in him, like his body bends to Korse’s will, and relaxes against the pillows. Korse hums in approval and brings thier hands back down to Gerard’s hips, sliding out slowly, and then thrusting back in hard. Gerard’s mouth hangs open on a ghost of an exclamation. His voice is lost, along with any thought or concept that anything exists besides Korse. Besides the slide of their body against his, the snap of their hips, the grip of their hands, their breath washing over Gerard. Korse is all encompassing, consuming him in ways that Gerard would think would be too dangerous if he hadn’t already made the unconscious decision to trust Korse with his life. 

Gerard feels the telltale signs of an orgasm galloping it’s way to him way sooner than he wants and he tries to fight against it. Tells it to fucking come back later so that he can have this last longer. He  _ needs _ this to last longer, but Korse must see him fighting it because they fucking play dirty and wrap a hand around Gerard’s cock.

He grits his teeth but just lets go and thrusts up into Korse’s grip, letting his body completely move on instinct until his thighs start to shake and he’s practically sobbing. 

“Now, Gerard,” Korse instructs and Gerard can tell they’re about to finish as well. It’s all Gerard’s body needs to completely unwind. He feels his muscles spasm at the same time Korse rocks into him one last time, feels how his thighs quiver against Korse’s stilled hips, how his ass clenches around Korse as if it was trying to bring them even deeper. And he yells, feels his fucking throat light on fire from how hard he yells as his whole body rushes with heat and then cold and he’s trembling against the sheets.

He’s vaguely aware of Korse’s soft kisses against his temple, of their hands stroking his body back to awareness as they whisper, “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.”

Gerard mewls and tilts his face up, searching. 

Korse chuckles and kisses him. “And greedy,” they scold playfully.

*

Sometime later, Gerard awakes to rustling in the kitchen. He can hear metal clinging together and the soft chime of the stove turning on. 

He doesn’t really want to leave the warm bed, doesn’t want to leave the sheets that still smell like sex and their mingled sweat, but he wraps a sheet around his shoulders and climbs out of bed. His body still feels like it’s vibrating, even his bare feet hitting the cool wooden floors makes his mind hum happily. 

“Tea?” Korse asks softly when Gerard makes his way into the kitchen. 

“Sure,” Gerard agrees, watching Korse set a tea kettle on the stove. 

He’s waiting for the awkwardness to settle in. For the tension to dissipate now that they’ve finally fucked, but it doesn’t. He still feels this invisible rope pulling him to Korse. So, he walks over to Korse and wraps the arm not holding his sheet up around Korse’s waist and leans into them. It feels oddly domestic given their situation and positions within BL/ind. 

And there’s a sour taste in his mouth as he realizes that he’s just fucked the enemy.  _ I don’t think it’s black and white _ he had said, and he truly believes that. He can  _ feel _ the person Korse is underneath the chemicals BL/ind has pumped into them. 

He feels a tremor work its way through Korse and Gerard makes a noise of sympathy in the back of his throat. “The pills aren’t working?” Gerard asks cautiously. 

He expects Korse to tense, to shut down and maybe even kick Gerard out, but they sigh, “I have to adjust my dosage often.”

Because they’ve been on the pills for so long now, Gerard’s brain supplies. 

“How long do you wait between adjustments?” Gerard wonders as he recalls earlier this afternoon when Korse’s hand had been shaking in the meeting. 

“Usually as soon as the tremors start,” Korse admits. 

“Why haven’t you yet?”

Korse turns and fixes Gerard with a grin, a real and genuine grin that makes Gerard’s heart thunder again. “Two punks in the architect department.”

Gerard blushes and reaches down for Korse’s hand. He thumbs at their knuckles and says, “You know he’s worried about you too.”

It’s risky bringing up Frank right now, but he thinks maybe it’s ok since Korse brought him up first. But the sour taste is back in his mouth when he thinks about the kisses he shared with Frank just this afternoon. Thinks about the way Frank had told him that Korse wasn’t able to be saved. But he saw the shakiness behind his eyes, had seen the way that Frank desperately wanted Korse to be. And Gerard wonders what the story is there. 

“I don’t know how he could be,” Korse says softly, “How either of you could--”

“Humanity is hard to stifle,” Gerard cuts him off softly, looking back up at him and almost poolng to the floor when he sees how Korse’s eyes have gone glassy with tears. And it’s hard not to wonder how long it’s been since Korse has allowed themself to feel the emotions they’ve let Gerard see today. “No matter how hard you try.”

They both jump a bit when the kettle whistles and Korse instructs Gerard to the cupboard where they have their tea selection. Gerard finds something with chamomile in it, thinking something to calm him would be best and grabs a satchel for Korse as well. Mugs in hand, Korse leads them back to the bedroom.

Gerard nestles against Korse, his back pressed to their chest and his arms resting on Korse’s knees which are bent and framing Gerard. “What were you like before the wars?” Gerard asks, sipping at his tea. 

It takes awhile for Korse to respond, but Gerard doesn’t push. He looks over at the soft greys that make up his bedroom. The heavy fabric of the curtains, the way the furniture all seem to be dreary but have an underlying sense of time spent loved--especially the desk pushed against the window. 

“I was a writer,” Korse says finally and Gerard doesn’t interrupt, but leans his head back against Korse’s shoulder. 

“I…” Korse trails off with a chuckle, “I was sort of a wildcard really. Not when I was a kid though, I was oddly law abiding for a child of two activists.”

Gerard perks up at that. “Activists?”

Korse hums and presses a kiss to the side of Gerard’s head. “My parents were very against the atomic bomb,” he explains, “My father actually snuck me into a base when I was just a kid.”

“Wow,” Gerard muses, “So you were pretty involved?”

“Yeah,” Korse says, and the more they talk about their past, the more he hears that accent appear, “I won’t forget that day he took me to this base and we saw rows of coffins lined up against the wall. And they had these names on them, had already gone through and written everyone’s name in the city on a coffin because they were so convinced that the bombs would drop. It was like they were just waiting to die.”

Gerard turns a little in their arms and looks up at them. “And you were just a kid?”

Korse’s eyes look distant, like he’s reliving the moment and Gerard feels another tremor shake him. Gerard rubs at their chest and whispers, “Shh.”

“I think it’s why I was so...everyone was affected by the bombs that dropped before the Helium Wars, but it was like it reawoken this childhood fear I thought I had locked away for good,” Korse continues. 

Gerard leans over to set his mug down on the night stands so he can turn in Korse’s lap and hold their face in his hands. “Korse--”

“It’s why I was first in line to get the pills,” Korse rushes, and Gerard’s heart sinks, “When they said it would take away all the negative emotions, all the fear, I couldn’t say no to that.”

It’s starting to make sense, the puzzle of Korse is starting to take shape but Gerard suspects he’s only gotten the start of a much deeper story. 

“Come now,” Korse says after clearing his throat, “Tell me something good. Don’t let me ramble on about things that don’t matter.”

Gerard wants to tell them how badly they do matter, but he also doesn’t want to see another tear streak down their face again so he tells them stories about Jersey. Korse sets their tea down and pulls them back into the blankets and lets Gerard’s memories of Christmases at his mom’s house, of the scent of heavy spiced desserts and the cadence of his mother’s off keyed caroles, warm the bedroom with happy memories. He tells them about the concerts Mikey had drugged him to when they were teenagers, of the most important one at Madison Square Garden when they saw the Smashing Pumpkins and Gerard thought he had a religious experience. He talks about his art and how whenever he draws he thinks of his grandmother who never let him give up on his dreams even when he thought they were childish. 

Korse stares at him like they’re taking in everything that he has to say with the deepest gratitude, like Gerard’s memories can fill in the gaps where the pills have eaten away at. Like they want that kind of life Gerard is describing again. As if they want to have a simple life where good memories are just mornings with really sugary cups of coffee and the company of someone who believes in goodness. 

So Gerard keeps talking, keeps linking stories until they start to loop together and circle around their entangled bodies like the safest cocoon for them to sleep in, impenetrable by nightmares of bombs or worries of what tomorrow might bring.

*

  
The next time Gerard wakes up, it’s to knocking. 

Immediately, he springs up to a sitting position with wide eyes. Korse lays a hand on his shoulder and rubs gently. “It’s ok, go back to sleep.”

Fat chance of that, Gerard thinks as Korse slips out of bed and pulls on a pair of pajama pants. Gerard strains to listen as Korse opens the door and then hurries to his feet when he hears Frank’s voice. 

With the sheet wrapped around him, he hoovers by the doorway and sees Frank looking murderous at Korse.

Oh no, Gerard thinks, about to take a step out of the bedroom to try and deescalate the situation. 

“You dumb motherfucker, “ Frank bites out, before reaching out to wrap a hand around Korse’s neck and pulling them into a kiss. 

Gerard freezes. 

He hadn’t really expected that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there friends, things will all get explained later in the fic. 
> 
> Also I know there wasn't any Ray and Mikey in this chapter, but they're in the next one!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter one, but I really liked where it ended. Next chapter will make up in length ;)

Gerard watches with curiosity as they kiss. 

It’s not with the same slowness that Korse had kissed him. It’s angry, desperate.

And scared. 

Gerard can see the fear in Frank’s white knuckles gripping the back of Korse’s shirt. Sees the way Korse pulls back to stroke down his face and whisper soothingly at him.

_ They’re literally the enemy we’re trying to take down. They’re the leader, Gerard. There’s no saving them,  _ Frank had told him. Gerard knew that Frank hadn’t really given up on Korse, had the gut feeling that there was something there between the two of them. He’d seen how they interacted with each other. The way Frank’s eyes lingered on Korse and the way Korse dismissed Frank’s blatant defiance. 

Frank looks up and his eyes fall on Gerard. Gerard holds his breath, feeling more naked in his sheet, but Frank just smiles mischievously and says, “Looks like I missed one hell of a sleepover.”

Gerard feels his cheeks heat and he looks down at the floor, listening to the footsteps that approach him. Korse’s thumb hooks under his chin and lifts it gently so Gerard is looking up at them. “I’ll fix some breakfast, I think the two of you have some things to talk about?” They muse. 

Gerard nods slowly and lifts his chin higher. Korse smiles before leaning down to kiss him soft and reassuring. This doesn’t change anything between them. 

Korse breaks their kiss and walks into the kitchen, revealing Frank who is looking at Gerard with hungry eyes. Before Gerard gets the chance to say anything though, Frank is stalking towards him and kissing the question right off his lips. 

He can’t help it, can’t deny Frank the same way he can’t deny Korse and it’s making his head spin. Frank kisses him just as madly as he had with Korse, but he knows it’s not the same kind of mad. This is the sort of mad that comes from-- well Gerard wouldn’t say love just yet. Maybe not love, but they’re dangerously toying along that boundary. Teetering over before gripping the edge and hanging on to dear life. 

“Gerard,” Frank bites out, walking him backwards and it hits Gerard that Frank’s eyes are closed. His eyes are closed and he’s leading Gerard into Korse’s bedroom like he's been here before. 

Gerard lets him push him down on the mattress and crawl over him before Gerard says, “Wait, wait--no, Frank,  _ talk _ .”

Frank leans down and noses under his jaw. “Fuck, you smell like them,” he groans, licking at the sensitive skin there. 

Gerard shivers and weaves his fingers into Frank’s hair trying to pull him up. “Talk to me. What the fuck--you’ve been here?”

Frank hums in agreement, still pressing kisses along Gerard’s neck. 

Gerard’s trying to hang onto the thoughts that are threatening to abandon ship as Frank’s lips travel lower to his collarbone. “How long has that been going on?” 

That makes Frank look up and he smirks. “Jealous?”

“No,” Gerard says, a little surprised by how much he means it, “Curious.”

Gerard doesn’t feel a shred of jealousy in his stomach. Watching Korse and Frank had made him warm, gave him the same feeling he had when he got to see someone unveil a piece of artwork for the first time. He felt special, like his eyes were important enough to fall onto that kind of beauty. 

Frank leans back so that he’s sitting on his knees and runs a hand through his hair that’s getting borderline too long. “There’s some things Korse has to tell you,” Frank says uncertainly, looking towards the doorway. 

It reminds him of the conversation they had about Frank’s informant, and Gerard is starting to realize how important secrets are in their world now. How, more often than not, it could mean life or death. 

So Gerard nods. “Ok, Frankie,” he says softly, then he reaches up to cup Frank’s cheek and adds, “I trust you.”

Frank’s eyes flutter shut and Gerard watches him inhale sharply. He looks scared still, like he’s standing naked in the middle of a firefight. Like he’s been left alone to fend for himself, or worse, like he’s been left alone where he can’t help the ones he cares about. 

Frank opens his eyes and coverers the hand that’s on his cheek. “Careful,” he warns softly, “Trust is all we have anymore. You shouldn’t just give that to anyone.”

Gerard lets that rattle in his mind, feels it ricochet off his memories of Mikey’s face when he showed up at his apartment after the first bombs, of Ray hiding radios in their apartment, of the blueprints hidden in their office, of Korse pressing a kiss to his skin before that needle dug into his neck. “Fine,” Gerard whispers finally. He looks up at him and makes sure his voice doesn’t waiver when he says, “You can have my heart instead.”

*

Mikey hasn’t been this close to the edge of the city before and it’s making his skin crawl. And he’s not exactly sure if that’s from the desperation to be out in the zones, or the fear of not knowing what’s out there. 

Frank’s brought them out to this grimey bar that’s clearly a cover up for whatever rebellion activity Frank’s a part of. The guy at the bar had nodded at Frank when they walked in and then tapped on the bartop three times. When he catches Gerard’s eyes, he raises his eyebrows as if saying  _ like a Bond movie, Mikes! _ And Mikey can’t help but to grin and shake his head because his brother is such a fucking dork sometimes. 

“This way,” Frank says quietly, taking Gerard’s hand and heading towards the kitchen.

Mikey looks at Ray who shrugs and follows Frank without any question. Mikey hovers outside the kitchen and looks around, but no one is paying attention to them, so he slips behind the curtain. 

Frank keeps them moving until they reach the deep freeze and it looks like Ray is about to say something when Frank opens it and reveals another room. 

Mikey feels his eyes widen, especially when he sees someone waiting for them. They’re wearing riding gear and a motorcycle helmet, hiding their face. 

“Pony, these are my friends,” Frank says, “Mikey, Ray, and Gerard.”

Pony chuckles and says, “Oh,  _ Gerard _ .” Which makes Gerard’s cheeks blush and Mikey can’t help but find the whole thing amusing even if it hadn’t been at first. 

It had been a bit problematic when Gerard didn’t come home last night with no warning. And it was another one of those times where Mikey felt helpless, really helpless because he couldn’t just  _ call _ someone. He had kept getting up to check the locks, to circle around the apartment and press his ear against the front door to listen for any Dracs. And then finally he grabbed a change of clothes for work and slipped on a jacket before heading out to Ray’s apartment. 

Ray shifts to stand closer to Mikey and Mikey smiles at that instinctual move. He doesn’t really know what’s going on with him and Ray, but he’s also trying really hard not to overthink it. Because he likes having Ray around and he’s trying to tell his brain not to overcomplicate that. He’s allowed to have friends again, and there’s a part of him that keeps lecturing him that he’s allowed to have a ‘more than a friend’ too if he wants. But there’s a louder part that keeps screaming like he had when Pete disappeared, and that scream always washes out any part of him that thinks he deserves to be happy. 

But that doesn’t mean he stops letting Ray come over to tell him about his day as they warm up Pop Tarts in the toaster and keep putting on pots of coffee. Doesn’t stop them from curling up on the couch together with Bowie playing in the background. Doesn’t stop Ray’s warm hands from wrapping around his boney hips and hugging him close before he leaves at the end of each night. Doesn’t stop Mikey from lingering in his embrace just a fraction longer each time. 

When Ray answered the door last night, his eyes had been bleary until he woke up enough to realize it was Mikey standing at his doorstep. 

“Mikes?” He asked, pulling him inside by his wrist and then taking his jacket off. Mikey didn’t understand at first, why Ray was sliding his hands over Mikey’s arms or why he cupped his jaw and gently turned his head from side to side. Until it dawned on him that Ray was checking him for injuries, and Mikey had to reach out and frame his face enamoured by a too focused expression.

_ I’m ok,  _ he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. So, he just held Ray’s face in his hands until his expression softened and he leaned in to rest his forehead against Mikey’s. “You fucking scared me. What’s going on? Where’s Gerard?”

Mikey had shrugged and Ray tensed again. “Is he hurt--is he...?”

Mikey huffed in aggravation and turned away from Ray, annoyed with himself. Annoyed that he was scared, that he couldn’t handle one night alone at the apartment without shaking like a child. Pissed off that he had come to Ray and scared him for no reason. Because nothing was wrong. Mikey was just being Mikey, but he couldn’t  _ fucking say that _ . 

“Hey,” Ray had whispered, catching Mikey with an arm around his hips and Ray wasn’t really one to manhandle someone, but Mikey could tell that it was a special occasion. Because it was Mikey, and for some reason Mikey being upset meant that Ray did things he normally wouldn’t do. 

“It’s alright,” Ray said, pulling Mikey close again, not quite a hug but Mikey still felt comforted by the warmth of Ray’s breath hitting his cheek. “Let’s get you to bed.”

There had been a moment where Mikey’s stomach flipped uncomfortably as he toed off his shoes and slipped under Ray’s cool sheets where he wasn’t sure if he was ready to feel someone else against him in a bed. He could still feel Pete’s hands on his skin and Mikey didn’t know if he wanted to overwrite those memories just yet. 

“I’ll be in the living room if you need something,” Ray said, but before he could leave, Mikey felt his hand reach out for him and pull him into bed beside him. Because apparently his body knew more than his mind did. 

The sound of Pony unzipping their jacket brings Mikey back to the present. Pony sighs and leans back against the wall, looking like a model casually draped over a set. Mikey can’t help but notice the necklace wrapped around their neck. It’s clunky, and after further inspection he can see that it’s a string of bottle caps, cola bottle caps. 

Pony notices Mikey looking and hooks a finger around the necklace. “It was a gift from someone special,” they say softly, and Mikey wishes he could see their face because he can’t figure out the tone, “He was ghosted.”

“Ghosted?” Gerard asks.

Pony makes a gesture with their finger sliding across their neck which clearly means that whoever gave them that necklace is no longer with them. 

“Oh,” Gerard says softly. 

Pony turns to look at Frank and says, “You didn’t tell them?”

“Tell us what?” Ray demands.

Pony sighs and tilts their head back against the wall. “The zones aren’t a free ticket to paradise, kiddos,” they say, “It’s dangerous, life is hard as hell. And people die.”

Mikey watches Gerard’s expression harden and then sees the way Frank is looking at him, watches the way they seem to be having a silent conversation and there’s a brief flare of jealousy in Mikey’s stomach. But it’s overshadowed by the waves of desperation coming off of Gerard and Mikey starts towards him only to be stopped by Ray taking his hand. 

“But it’s freedom,” Ray insists. 

Mikey can practically hear the smile in Pony’s voice when they say, “Yeah, you’re free out there.”

*

When they get back home, Mikey takes Gerard by the arm and drags him out to the balcony. Ray and Frank give them a confused look, but he’s glad they don’t follow them out. 

“Mikey, what the hell?” Gerard asks, frowning and rubbing at his arm when Mikey lets him go. 

Mikey shoves at him a little and narrows his eyes like,  _ start talking _ . 

Gerard looks like a scolded kid and he bites his lip, clearly thinking about what he should and shouldn’t tell Mikey. Mikey pushes at Gerard’s shoulder again in the way of,  _ all of it, tell me everything. _

Gerard sighs and says, “I’m seeing Frank.”

Mikey scoffs, because that’s pretty obvious. But then Gerard’s cheeks turn red and he looks uncertain again, “And Korse.”

Mikey is pretty sure his face reads livid, because Mikey can feel his blood boiling and his brain is showing him all the worst case scenarios of what could happen to his brother for getting mixed up with Korse. 

“It’s not like that,” Gerard hurries to say, “Korse isn’t like you think.”

Mikey rolls his eyes and pats Gerard’s jacket until he finds his pack of cigarettes and lights up. Gerard gives him a look, but then takes one for himself and slumps against the brick of the apartment. “They’re not, I promise. It’s the pills, they’ve been on them since the war ended. They were one of the first trial runs.”

Which means that he’s probably all sorts of fucked up, Mikey thinks. He’s seen Korse in passing at work just like they all have, but he’s been good about staying out of the way and keeping his head down. He’s heard the stories though. Stories of how they gun down rebels without even blinking or how they’re the one who issues out the raids on apartments like his and Gerard’s. 

Korse is the enemy. 

“Mikey,” Gerard breathes, “I need you to trust me on this one.”

Mikey stares at him and doesn’t miss the way he drops ‘trust’ like it’s made of lead and he knows the weight of its significance. One of the worst things about being Gerard’s brother is that Mikey innately trusts him with everything. And it’s not like Gerard’s given him reasons not to, there’s so many instances where Mikey’s gotten pretty fucked over from trusting Gerard blindly. But it’s sorta just what they do. Because Mikey knows Gerard’s heart, it’s made of the same stuff as his own is. So he knows that Gerard wouldn’t trust it with just anyone, knows that if he’s leaving it in the care of Korse, then there’s reason to believe there’s some sort of good in Korse. 

Mikey nods in the direction of Frank sitting inside with Ray in their kitchen. 

Gerard’s eyes widen and he blushes again. “Oh, um, it’s sort of…”

Mikey grins and takes another log drag of his cigarette. He’ll never stop thinking it’s funny that Gerard gets so tongue tied over sex. Especially now that he’s in some threesome thing. Mikey wiggles his eyebrows at him, and it does the job to make Gerard laugh and drop his shoulders a bit. 

“Yeah,” Gerard sighs dramatically, “Both. I don’t know how I ended up in this situation.”

Mikey rolls his eyes and flicks his spent cigarette off the balcony before pressing his hand to Gerard’s heart. Gerard stares at him and when his eyes still are clouded in confusion, Mikey looks inside where Ray is laughing animatedly before he turns back to Gerard and pats his hand over Gerard’s heart like,  _ you can’t help who you love. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love on the last chapter. Uploads might slow down for a bit since I have a huge paper due in a week that I haven't even started on.

Frank’s hand tightens around Gerard’s as he leads him up the stairs to Korse’s apartment. 

He hadn’t said anything when he and Mikey came back in from their talk on the balcony, just stared at him and somehow settled on a decision. 

“See ya guys later,” Frank said to Ray and Mikey, taking Gerard’s hand and pulling him towards the door. And Gerard hadn’t hesitated, just looked behind him to see Mikey’s slight smile and Ray’s confusion. 

Frank knocks softly, so quietly that Gerard wonders if Korse even heard it, but the door opens and Korse leans against the frame as if this was the most natural thing in the world. As if they had the freedom for longing looks and smirked, “Well, what do we have here?” 

Frank rolls his eyes and pushes forward, moving Korse out of the way and bringing Gerard into the living room. Gerard looks around nervously, all the confidence from the night before dispersed ever since Frank had walked in this morning. Because now he doesn’t know where he stands or where they’re going from here. 

He opens his mouth to start his questioning, but Frank kisses the words right off his lips. Gerard doesn’t fight it, all the frenzy in his mind settles as Frank sets his hands on Gerard’s shoulders and steadies him. 

Gerard jumps a little when he feels Korse’s hands on his hip, and then their lips brushing against Gerard’s ear, “Easy, Sweetheart.”

He shivers as Korse’s hands slip under Gerard’s shirt, stroking his skin just above the waist of his jeans as Frank brings his kisses down along his jaw. “Do you want us to stop?” Frank asks, his hands sliding down to tangle with Korse’s. 

“Don’t you dare,” Gerard breathes, surprising himself. 

But that’s all that Frank needs to hear, because his lips are searing against Gerard’s again and he’s pulling him back towards Korse’s bedroom. Korse follows leisurely and walks around the bedroom to turn on the two lamps on either side of the bed. Gerard can feel their eyes on them as Frank starts to pull Gerard’s shirt over his head. 

Frank rains kisses against his collarbone, fingers tracing down his spine and Gerard gasps breathlessly at the shivers that rock through his body. 

“You just going to stand there and watch all night?” Frank asks against Gerard’s skin, looking over his shoulder. 

“The two of you are pretty distracting,” Korse muses and Gerard smiles to himself at how at ease Korse sounds, as if nothing ever existed outside of this bedroom. Like their BL/ind ID badge isn’t sitting on the kitchen table, like Frank and Gerard haven’t just gotten back from planning an escape. 

Gerard turns in Frank’s arms and leans back against him, smiling a bit when Frank rests his chin in the curve of Gerard’s shoulder. Korse’s eyes darken as Frank reaches around to toy with Gerard’s nipple. “Don’t you want to come play with us?”

“You two are going to be the death of me,” Korse breathes, but they’re walking towards the two of them and dips their head down to kiss Gerard. And then Gerard is drowning in them, fingers teasing his nipples or at the waistband of his jeans. Lips tasting his flushed skin and nibbling at his sensitive spots. 

Gerard’s eyes flutter open without him realizing they were shut as Korse pulls Gerard’s belt from the loops of his jeans. Frank keeps mouthing at Gerard’s neck as Korse gets Gerard out of the rest of his clothing and then they’re leading Gerard to the bed. 

Gerard lays back against the cool sheets and blinks up at them standing at the foot of the bed. Korse cups Frank’s cheek and kisses him sweetly, taking their time to coax soft gasps and whimpers from Frank’s lips. And it’s beautiful, so fucking beautiful to see someone as angry as Frank, as destructive and constantly  _ fighting  _ to melt down to such softness. To see Korse bring him to that state of vulnerability with such care, with so much caution as if they’d spook Frank if they hurried him. 

And Korse. Watching Korse care for someone when their reputation paints them as an exterminator. Gerard can’t take his eyes off of Korse’s hands-- the very hands that have pulled the trigger of a raygun countless times--lovingly caress Frank’s face. He watches them undress each other unhurried. And it’s not that they’ve forgotten Gerard, but it’s more that they’re letting him into this secret of theirs.

When Frank peels away the last of Korse’s clothes, Gerard reaches out for them and Korse goes to him, licking their way into Gerard’s mouth. Gerard sighs happily, running his hands up their strong back. His fingers run into Frank’s lips and he feels Frank smile before he kisses Gerard’s fingertips. 

Korse shifts them so that Gerard is straddled their thighs and he can’t help the strangled sound that slips between his lips when he feels his cock press against Korse. Frank is there at his back, licking the shell of his ear and whispering, “What do you want, baby?” 

Gerard feels like his skin is going to melt off his bones, feels like his blood is boiling over and he’s going to be nothing but melted desire between their touch. “You,” Gerard breathes, rocking his hips down against Korse, “Korse, both.”

Frank chuckles and Korse’s hands come to Gerard’s hips and stills them, chuckling when he whines in frustration, “He’s greedy, darling,” Korse muses. 

Gerard feels the grin against his neck, can feel the adoration pouring out of him as he says, “Something tells me you won’t have any problem spoiling him.”

“Oh, certainly not,” Korse agrees, reaching out for Gerard. 

Gerard goes easily, stretching out on top of Korse and pressing down onto his glorious heat. Korse kisses him possessively, wraps a hand around the back of Gerard’s neck and holds him there to do with what pleases. Gerard feels Frank’s hands on his hips, pulling and pushing until Frank’s got Gerard on his knees with his ass in the air. 

Korse swallows Gerard’s whimper as he feels Frank’s hands on his ass, squeezing and then pulling his cheeks apart to press his tongue against him. 

Gerard bucks his hips, not sure if he’s trying to push closer to Frank’s mouth or try to get away. It doesn’t matter, with Korse’s hand tight around his neck and Frank’s iron grip on his hips, he’s not going anywhere. He moans into Korse’s mouth as Frank coaxes Gerard to let him in, his head spinning and breath coming out in spurts. 

Korse leans up to kiss Gerard’s forehead, leaving Gerard’s whimpers tumbling out onto the sheets. “Shh, let Frank take care of you,” Korse soothes, bringing their fingers up to comb through his hair. 

Gerard shudders as Frank slides two fingers inside him, curling up and hitting his prostate on the first try. “Fuck, Frankie,” he gasps. 

“Going to get you nice and open for us,” Frank promises, sliding his tongue in beside his fingers as Gerard hears the tear of a condom wrapper. 

Gerard can feel his muscles twitching, feels his cock leaking all over Korse’s belly and he’s convinced he’s going to come just like this. But Frank and Korse have other plans, shifting Gerard again until he’s being guided over Korse. 

Frank takes Gerard’s hands in his, chest pressed against his back and mouth against his ear as he whispers, “Go on, baby.”

Gerard squeezes Frank’s fingers and bites down on his lip as he sinks down. Korse’s gaze heats and his hands around Gerard’s hips are surely going to leave bruises. It’s like everyone is holding their breath as Gerard sinks lower, stretching further and further until it’s almost too much. He feels so full, skin feels so sensitive from having both of their hands and lips on it. 

Frank makes soothing noises, pressing soft kisses against the sweet, sensitive spot just under his ear. Frank whispers, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful right now.”

“Always,” Korse disagrees, “He’s always beautiful.”

Gerard’s not sure when he’s felt this cherished. Isn’t sure if he ever has been, can’t remember a time when someone wanted him this much. The kind of want that borders on pain from the intensity, but Gerard is diving into it head first and exhales heavily as he bottoms out. 

Frank’s hands slide down Gerard’s arms and up to his chest as Korse rocks their hips up to match Gerard’s tentative ones, moving slowly at first to find a rhythm. Gerard’s lips whisper pleads and promises and he feels Frank’s own nonsense against his skin. 

Frank’s hand wraps around Gerard’s cock and Gerard is practically sobbing now, it’s so much. Thrusting down against Korse and then bucking up into Frank’s touch. Feeling Korse’s nails bite into his skin against the softness of Frank’s soothing kisses against his neck. And then he’s shuddering, breaking apart between them and crying out incoherently. 

“That’s it,” Frank praises, stroking him through it as Gerard comes over his hand and Korse’s belly. 

Korse stills their hips, hands sliding up to bring Gerard down against them. Gerard rests his forehead against Korse’s chest, breath slowing as Korse rubs at the back of his neck. “So good,” he tells him softly, “You’re wonderful, Gerard.”

Gerard smiles blissfully, pressing small lazy kisses against their chest. And then he feels Frank’s mouth against his shoulder and Gerard rolls off Korse, laying off to the side and laying his head on Korse’s shoulder. 

Frank holds Gerard’s gaze as he spreads Korse’s legs and then leans down to press his mouth to them. Korse groans and Gerard lifts his head up to capture all the wonderful sounds Frank is pulling out of them. It doesn’t take long for Korse to grip Gerard’s hair and shake, moaning long as they come from Frank’s wicked mouth. 

“Come here,” Gerard whispers when Frank sits back up. 

Gerard and Korse bring Frank to lay against the pillows, Korse pushing his sweaty hair off Frank’s forehead. Gerard takes Frank’s cock in his mouth, mouthing at the head before Korse pulls him off by gently pulling at his hair. Korse’s lips stretch over Frank’s cock and it’s one of the most obscene things Gerard’s seen, Frank’s red and panting under Korse’s touch. And then Korse lifts up and Gerard knows it’s his turn again. Back and forth, they work together to bring Frank to the edge, to keep him teetering there until he’s a sobbing mess before Gerard takes pity and takes him deeply until he feels him against the back of his throat and Frank is flooding his mouth. 

Korse pulls at his chin, turning him so that he can drive his tongue into Gerard’s full mouth and lick the taste out of his mouth, dropping warm liquid down Gerard’s chin. He swallows and giggles softly as Korse licks up the mess they’ve made on his chin. 

“Fuck,” Frank murmurs, devotion clear in his voice, “let’s do that again.”

*

“Do you remember how to drive?” Ray asks nervously as he slides into the passenger seat. 

Not really, Mikey thinks. But they don’t have time to dwell on that, so Mikey twists the screwdriver that's been shoved into the ignition. Ray dramatically scrambles for his seatbelt as Mikey shoots them out of the parking garage, the front wheels catching air as they go over the speed bump in front of the exit. 

The car they’ve taken is clunky as hell, but Mikey loves the way it rumbles underneath his hands. It’s the kind of car that hasn’t been seen on the streets in years, the kind that he can remember seeing when he was a kid in the movies. All muscle and he thinks comically that he should be wearing a denim jacket with the collar up or something. 

Mikey remembers when Gerard had taught him how to drive. Their dad had tried at first, but Mikey was too nervous with him sitting tensed in the passenger seat as Mikey started drifting into the other lane. Gerard kept him calm though. He turned the radio on, low enough not to be distracting but enough for Mikey to feel like he was just sitting in the basement with Gerard. He talked about what was going on at school, only stopping occasionally to say, “Not so jerky on the brakes” or “Blinker, Mikes.” 

Pony is waiting for them at the garage with their eyes hidden behind shades even though it’s the middle of the night. Mikey pulls up and rolls down the window and Pony leans down to purr, “Just pull her inside, kiddo.”

Mikey steps on the gas a little too hard, so Ray has to brace a hand on the dash. Mikey gives him a sheepish smile before pulling the car into the small garage, then gets out. 

“Next time, I’m driving,” Ray says breathlessly and a quick look at him lets Mikey know he’s just giving him shit. 

Pony grins and takes off their glasses, hooking them into the collar of their shirt. “Not bad, any issues?”

“No, there wasn’t anyone out tonight,” Ray says, “At least not in that district. And the keycard you gave us tripped up the parking gate just like you said.”

Pony curls their glossed lips. “We sorta know what we’re doing.”

“Clearly,” Ray says, though Mikey still senses some hesitation. 

They’ve been working with Pony ever since Frank introduced them. Frank had come by the mail room and nodded for Mikey to follow him out one morning. 

“Look, Pony’s got a job that needs some extra hands but mine are all tied up here,” Frank had said quietly, eyes darting around for any listeners out in the hallway, “Think you and Toro would be interested?”

And Mikey had just nodded without really considering the weight of it. He knew that they were going to get out, that the plan was to run off into the zones where they could be free. He thought later, as he returned to his station in the mailroom, that perhaps he should have declined. He’s not really the rebel type. He had ran to Ray just because Gerard had a sleepover, he obviously didn’t have the guts to pull off anything that Pony had in mind. But then when he went home and had to lift up his floorboards just to put on a CD--a CD that he couldn’t even blast loud like The Misfits deserved--he remembered why they were doing this. 

“We’re going to need wheels for the big day,” Pony had said when Mikey and Ray slid into the booth at another bar near the tunnels. “Lots of them.”

And so for the past couple weeks, Ray and Mikey had been sneaking off into the night and ‘liberating’ various cars that Pony had scoped out throughout the day. They had a system of figuring out which cars wouldn’t be missed, which ones didn’t have trackers, and how to make sure not to hit the same area too frequently to raise any suspicion. And then they would drop off the cars at random garages, warehouses, or even just behind a building with a sheet over it until they would need them again. 

Mikey had learned that this was a much bigger operation than he had anticipated. A lot of people were breaking out at the same time it seemed. 

“When I get people out individually or in small groups,” Pony had said, “It takes a lot of time and work, which means I can’t help anyone else get out at the same time.”

“There aren’t more people like you?” Ray asked. 

Pony bit their lip. “Not enough.”

And Mikey read between the lines. Just because the zones were free, didn’t mean that everyone was friendly. Not everyone was itching to save those who were still stuck in Battery City. 

“Good,” Pony smiles, walking around the car and tracing their fingers around the exterior. “It’s a bit drab, don’t you think?”

It was, Mikey agreed. The white paint job had chipped in some places and rusted in others, but he could tell that it was beautiful back in its day. 

“I think I got just the thing,” Pony says, walking to the edge of the garage where there’s metal shelving built into the wall. They shuffle through some boxes before pulling one down and handing it to Mikey. “Go wild.”

Mikey looks down at the box of spray paint and hesitates. Art was always Gerard’s thing, but it feels powerful in his hands. Ray hovers off to the side and watches as Mikey pulls out a can of black spray paint. He can feel Pony’s eyes questioning why Mikey didn’t pick one of the colors, but Mikey has the image already seared in his brain. Seared in his brain from shuffling the same drawing from each pair of pants. 

The legs seem to stretch and flex as Mikey paints them on the hood of the car, and when he rounds the body he swears he can see it flicker to life. And Mikey can’t help but think it’s awakening something in him too, something that’s angry and determined. Angry that art like this isn’t allowed to exist in their world anymore, and determined to push it into every Drac’s face. 

He wants them to see him coming. 

*

Time hasn’t existed much for Gerard in a long time, but even he can tell how ridiculous his situation has gotten in such a short time. 

Korse presses a mug of tea into Gerard’s hands, their lips tilting upwards as Frank goes on about this supposedly excruciating experience at the grocery store earlier this week. Gerard knows that there should be something wrong with this situation. Knows that he shouldn’t be sitting in Korse’s living room with Frank sitting on the coffee table in front of them, his hands moving animatedly around his face.

With his shirt off. With his tattoos on display in front of Korse.

And the more that Gerard pays attention, the more he notices the subtle slips of Korse’s careful demeanor around them. They’ve gotten their dosage adjusted and there had been a day or two where Korse wouldn’t even look at Gerard at work, would walk by as if they hadn’t even seen him. 

“You get used to it,” Frank had gritted, holding his pencil so tight in his hands that Gerard thought it would snap. 

But after a few days, Korse warmed up to them again. Gerard remembered what it had been like on the pills, especially at the beginning when it felt like he lost chunks of time. And he still doesn’t fully understand why anyone would willingly seek that out. 

Gerard shivers at the feeling of Korse’s nose sliding along the top of his shoulder, feels their almost smile stretching against his skin. 

Sometimes Gerard thinks that he’s still missing time. That he falls into pockets of nothingness only to emerge into a reality he doesn’t recognize. Where he doesn’t know how to act. Because every inch of him is screaming to fall into Korse and Frank, to trust them inexplicably. 

But then his brain catches up and reminds him that they’re on opposite ends of this invisible war they’re fighting. 

“Does Korse know what we’re doing?” Gerard asked one day, nodding towards Frank’s notes on how he’ll build the bomb. 

Frank shakes his head. “No, we don’t talk about things like that--not anymore anyway. They know I’m up to something, but they prefer not to know specifics.”

Gerard tilts his head. “And that works?”

Frank purses his lips and then smiles a bit, like he’s trying to fight it but it’s a losing battle. “Yeah.”

Gerard thinks he understands why, especially as Korse’s hand slips from Gerard’s around the mug of tea and wraps around his waist almost possessively. This world is uncertain. The world before was uncertain even, but they had the rug swept out from under them in a matter of seconds as the bombs fell from the sky. None of them know how long this will last.

So, he can’t bring himself to really pull at the seams of their shakily stitched relationship. He doesn’t ask why Frank can striip down in front of Korse and kiss them as a lover one minute, then call Korse the enemy and plan a massive escape plan to the zones in the next. He doesn’t question how Korse can lay Gerard out on their bed and kiss every inch of his skin with such devotion, and then not look at him the next day at work. Gerard doesn’t question how falling in love could hurt so badly, though he supposes that’s why they call it falling. 

Gerard feels the tremor take over Korse’s hand and Gerard stills, frowning. He knows that Frank’s noticed too because his story stops mid-sentence and he comes to his knees before them, taking Korse’s hand in his and rubbing gently. “Why do you take the pills when they do this to you?”

“It’s what needs to be done to carry out the job,” Korse replies and it sounds rehearsed, like they’ve practiced it in front of the mirror. They sigh and say, “It’s alright, I’ll have another adjustment before going to the zones.”

Gerard and Frank trade glances. Gerard can see Frank telling him  _ don’t say anything _ and it just makes Gerard burn, so he asks instead, “Why do you go to the zones?”

Korse hums, like they’re pleased by the question. “The rebels that live in the zones are threatened by our order. They want the world to fall into the chaos that it had been before the bombs, they’re not willing to accept change.” 

Gerard watches Frank’s lips twitch, but he keeps rubbing at Korse’s hands. 

“If they’re not stopped,” Korse continues softly, “There could be another war, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to come back from that. Not when we’re all still fragile from the last one.”

Frank and Gerard are quiet for a long time, before Frank loses whatever battle he’s got going on in his head. “It’s not peace,” he hisses, and Gerard flinches, “There is no peace in taking away someone’s freedom.”

Korse stiffens against Gerard and he can feel the deep vibrations against his back as Korse asks, “What are you not free to do?”

Frank laughs, his hands stilling their soft touch against Korse’s, “Are you kidding me? No music or art. There’s no--”

“Self-expression is dangerous,” Korse warns.

Gerard can’t help but glance over Frank’s tattoos, over the years of time it took to design those and etch them into his skin. How could those be dangerous? How could years of dedication to art and celebrating his life and body be dangerous?

“You of all people--”

“--enough,” Korse bites, cutting Frank off. They shift Gerard so they can slide off the couch and Gerard watches with wary eyes as they tower over Frank. “Look what it did to me.”

“No,” Frank whispers, “ _ Better Life _ did this to you.”

Gerard watches the shaking in Korse’s hands, sees the brokenness in their eyes as they reply hollowly, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have a choice anymore. I haven’t in a long time.”


	13. Chapter 13

Mikey’s running. 

His legs are burning and his chest is aching in that way that’s telling him he’s not getting enough air into his lungs. But he can’t stop to catch his breath. He can’t even slow down, he just keeps pushing his body to move. 

Gotta get to Ray, he thinks. If he just gets to Ray, then he’ll be safe. It was stupid to go off on his own tonight, but they were behind schedule and Mikey didn’t want Pony and Frank’s plan to tank because Mikey wasn’t brave enough. 

But not having Ray meant that he didn’t have eyes on all his surroundings and he missed the two Dracs turning the corner when Mikey popped the lock on an old Toyota that reminded him of his mom’s car. 

And then he was just running, hoping that they didn’t see his face or else he’d be fucked the next day at work. But he couldn’t really think about that. His life had shrunk down to mere seconds when the Dracs started chasing him. He no longer could think about tomorrows, all he had was right now and if he’d make it to the next second. He knew they had rayguns on them, knew that sometimes they didn’t always use the stunner function on them

He realizes halfway to the hideout he was supposed to meet Ray, that he can’t bring the Dracs there or else they’d get Ray too. So, he runs down a random street, hoping to lose them before he makes his way back to Ray. 

There’s a point where he trips and lands hard on his hands and knees. A point where he doesn’t get up right away, because he thinks, what’s the point? The Dracs aren’t going to stop, they’re just going to chase him down until he gets tired. And it’s going to happen sooner or later, so why not just get it over with. 

“You can’t let them win,” Pete had told him once, when Mikey came over with a black eye from a bully at school. Pete had frowned and draped him over his lap, pressing a bag of peas to his bruised face. 

“I’m not exactly built to fight,” Mikey had mumbled, wincing when Pete shifted the peas on his face. 

Pete tsk’d and used his other hand to play with Mikey’s hair. “Then run next time,” Pete whispered.

“They’re faster than me,” Mikey pointed out. 

Pete smiled like Mikey had told a joke with an awful punchline. “Keep running.”

Mikey hears their steps getting closer and whispers, “Keep running,” to himself. He staggers up onto his feet and wills his legs to keep going, begs his lungs to behave just for a little while so that he can get to safety. 

He sees it when he rounds the corner, a fire escape ladder on the side of a trash shoot. He jumps up and climbs, not caring that he’s missing some and kneeing the punishing iron. He gets himself up the trash shoot and presses his tired limbs to the sides to keep himself held up against the walls, holding his breath as he hears the Dracs slow in confusion.

For a long few staggered heartbeats, he just waits and listens for their footsteps to continue down the alley. Eventually he does hear them echoing far away, but Mikey stays hidden until he’s sang the entirety of “Lips Like Morphine” in his head before he slides down and lands onto the concrete with a groan. 

Keep running. 

When he gets to his and Ray’s meeting spot, Ray rushes to him and breathes, “Are you ok? That took a long--where’s the car?”

Mikey’s legs feel wobbly, and it could be because he’s ran more in the last hour than he has in his entire life. But it could also be seeing Ray stare at him like Mikey almost took away his entire world. 

“Mikey, hey, what--”

And then Mikey is kissing him. 

It scares Mikey at first, and maybe that’s sorta why he did it. He’s tired of being scared, especially when it comes to Ray. Because even though Ray is starting to creep into the spaces of Mikey’s brain that was only meant for Pete, it’s not threatening like Mikey thought it would be. Ray isn’t barging into those spaces, he’s patiently waiting outside the door, waiting for Mikey to be ready for him. And maybe there’s a part of Mikey that will never fully be able to let Pete go, maybe it’s the part of him that thinks his memory of Pete is the only shred of existence that Pete has. 

But there’s something shifting in Mikey. Something that’s telling him that Ray isn’t  _ replacing _ Pete, it’s something else entirely. 

“Mikey,” Ray breathes when they break apart, but Mikey just presses his lips against Ray’s again. 

Ray’s hand slips behind Mikey’s head and he walks them back until Mikey’s back is pressed against the wood of the shed they’re standing behind just a few blocks from Ray’s apartment. Ray’s hand protects Mikey’s head from hitting the wood and Ray pulls back just far enough to say, “Mikey,” but it almost comes out like a question. 

Mikey’s voice is still trapped in his throat, hanging on for dear life and not ready to jump out to Ray and tell him how he feels. Not yet anyway. Mikey’s just not there yet. So, he reaches up and taps on Ray’s bottom lip.

Ray smiles warm and accepting, leaning in to take his hand and kiss him again. 

*

“What are you doing here?” Korse muses when Gerard comes into their office and shuts the door. 

Gerard isn’t sure if he’s getting more brave or just reckless in the weeks that have passed. With the prison approved and under construction, Korse hasn’t really had the need to check in on him and Frank, but it hadn’t stopped him from finding reasons to slip into their office. And neither of them had complained much when Korse made a game out of trying to distract them from their work. 

“Don’t you have paperwork or something to fill out?” Frank had teased when Korse started nibbling on his ear and Gerard couldn’t help the swell of awe he felt whenever he watched the two of them together. Couldn’t help but feel the twinge of bittersweetness as Korse’s eyes softened and drifted over his features like they might not get the chance to see him again. 

Gerard wonders if Korse has figured out what they’re planning, if they've got any suspicions. Or maybe, Korse knows that any day they could be on the wrong end of a firefight. Knows that maybe Frank will slip up and BL/ind will find out what he’s been working on. But Gerard tries not to think about those things too much because it makes it harder for him to breathe. 

And the nights in Korse’s apartments are even more maddening. If Gerard thinks his heart is going to give out by the teasing touches at work, it’s nothing compared to the onslaught of affection he receives once he steps through the threshold. From both of them. 

But what really makes Gerard forget caution are the too late nights awake on Korse’s couch with a mug of tea in his hands, warm from the blanket Korse always puts around his shoulders and the searing kisses they press against his neck or wrists. It’s the quiet moments, the seemingly innocent ones that drives Gerard more. 

“What did you write?” Gerard had asked once he finally got Korse to tell him that they had been a comic book writer. 

Korse smirked and shook their head, “No, you won’t be getting that out of me.”

“Is it something I know?” Gerard asked. 

Korse’s expression folds into something of pride, but still not quite there. It’s like they're remembering their accomplishments, letting them dance across their memories, but still holding their heart behind the safety glass. Knows that if they humor Gerard too much and toe into the realm of what had been and what still could be, they'll never find this chemical peace within themself again. 

Especially with the amount of dosages they've been adjusting. Gerard noticed that every time Korse is set to go out to the zones, they have to get a different prescription. And it’s worrisome that the first thing Frank does when they all get into Korse’s apartment, is take their hands and rub the twitching muscles there with a composed face. Gerard knows it’s killing Frank to watch Korse destroy themself over an illusioned sense of security, but he can’t say anything. 

And at first he thought it was because Frank still didn’t trust Korse enough to let them know that they’re not on the pills. That they’re building a bomb. That they’re going to run into the zones, the very zones that Korse is sent to “clean up”.

Gerard knew that he should leave it alone, that he needed to take a page from Korse and Frank’s book and not ask the hard questions. 

But Gerard’s never been great at letting things go, so one night he asked, “Why can’t they come with us?”

Frank set down the tweezers he had in his hand, a wire hanging off of it, and Gerard hoped that Frank really did know what he’s doing and wouldn't accidentally blow them up. 

Gerard had been wary about Frank building the bomb in their apartment, but it wasn’t like he could do it at work. Stealing blueprints and sketching out his designs were one thing, building a bomb in the enemy’s headquarters was entirely another. He was worried how Mikey would react, but Mikey’s been out most nights anyway with Ray. And Gerard finds himself smiling whenever Mikey slips into the apartment late at night like he’s a teenager sneaking back in after being at a party. 

“Gee, they're in too deep,” Frank said gently, but his eyes are hard like he’s pissed about it too. 

“I don’t think--”

“They're not going to stop taking those pills,” Frank muttered, picking up the tweezers again. 

“We can get through to them,” Gerard argued and then added, “Just give me some time.”

Frank sighed with annoyance and set the tweezers down again with a little more force than Gerard thought was safe next to explosive material. “Look, this isn’t just about us,” he said, staring hard at Gerard, “It’s about Ray and your little brother too. It’s about the countless others that Pony is springing too. We can’t let our feelings jeopardize everyone’s chance out.”

But something else settled in Frank, like he was holding out for one last hope that maybe Gerard could get through to Korse. “Pony gave me a date. You’ve got two weeks before we plant the bomb,” he said, then he looked up at him and held his gaze, “Gerard, if you don’t leave that with us, you won’t be able to try again. They’ll trace the bomb back to us, to you. You can’t stay behind if he doesn’t come.”

Which is why Gerard is walking towards Korse’s bemused expression, hoisting himself onto Korse’s desk. “I missed you.”

Korse smiles and pulls Gerard’s feet into their lap, undoing his laces and sliding his boots off. “I know,” they say calmly, “I’ve had to be in the zones a lot lately.”

Gerard doesn’t say anything to that, just watches Korse dig their thumb into the arch of his foot. “I should be doing this for you then.”

Korse chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to his knee. “I’m not complaining.”

“Got a foot thing?” Gerard teases and then blushes when Korse just hums, feeling the vibrations against his skin. But he also knows that Korse is just trying to keep his hands busy so Gerard won’t see how they shake. It's a fruitless attempt because Gerard sees the new prescription sitting on the edge of their desk.

“You went to the doctor today,” Gerard says.

Not a question, but Korse answers anyway, “Yes.”

Gerard stares at them, even though Korse won’t meet his eyes. He traces over the way they're holding their expression in a careful disinterested shape. How their eyes look relaxed but Gerard sees the strain there. Their lips look slack, but Gerard watches the way their jaw twitches. They look like the same Korse that Gerard has seen leading a group of Dracs out of the tower, but the problem is that Gerard knows that’s not who is sitting in front of him right now. 

This person isn’t the robotic exterminator that BL/ind and everyone in Battery City thinks they are. They're an artist. Gentle and nurturing, Gerard’s felt the way they've cared for him. Has seen the way they interact with Frank and all his pent up anger. He’s witnessed slips of Korse’s former self slide to the surface where their accent is thick and their eyes still twinkle like their dreams never morphed into nightmares. He knows that they're still in there, and Gerard’s determined to get them out of their fucking tower. 

“Don’t take them,” Gerard whispers, as if keeping his voice down will make the request less daunting. 

Korse looks up then and brings their hand up to brush their knuckes against Gerard’s jaw, examining his face studiously. “Is it really feel better, darling?” They ask and Gerard’s stomach tightens. “I know you stopped taking your medication and I don’t like seeing this worry on your face.”

Gerard feels like he’s going to throw up. For a brief moment he’s back on that exam table with Korse holding him down so he can get that injection, and panic flushes his cheeks and chest. Korse presses their hand to Gerard’s racing heart. “You see? Why would you do this to yourself?”

Gerard swallows thickly and rests his hand over Korse’s, trying to keep his voice steady as he says, “The pills made me feel like I wasn’t alive.”

“They take away the negative emotions,” Korse counters, “They make living better.”

Gerard’s hand tightens around Korse’s and he shakes his head. “No,” he stresses, “That’s not all they take.”

Gerard watches Korse process what he’s just said, the hidden meaning that Gerard slipped in there, and then frames Gerard’s face with their hands and kisses him. It’s slow and careful, like Gerard is the breakable one here. And when they part they say, “They don’t change the fact that I want you.”

Gerard reaches out to trace their lips with a sad smile, because it  _ hurts _ that Korse doesn’t get this. They're so far gone they don't understand that, “Want isn’t the same thing as love.”

The words hang between the two of them, coats their kissed lips with the bitter truth and Gerard adds, “BL/ind thinks love is a negative emotion, that it’s dangerous.”

*

Mikey’s skin crawls at the way his supervisor is smiling eerily at him.

He’s been doing pretty good about staying out of his way and just keeping busy with his usual mail route. But something’s different today. 

“Way,” he says, and Mikey begrudgingly goes to him. 

He raises an eyebrow like he’s waiting for Mikey to address him, but when he doesn’t he sneers, “You’re wanted in medical,” before handing him a slip of paper. 

Mikey takes it with a surprisingly stable hand then quickly leaves the mail room, rushing through the halls and up the different stairs that will lead him to Ray. Ray spots him as soon as he walks into broadcasting, rushing to him to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him into an empty store room. 

“Shit, Mikes, you’re shaking,” Ray whispers, “What--”

But he cuts off when he notices the slip of paper Mikey is extending. Mikey watches Ray’s eyes move back and forth as he takes in the writing. “Fuck,” Ray mutters, then hands the paper back to Mikey and tries to soften his expression, “Ok, it’s...it’s ok.”

Mikey looks at him doubtfully. His intestines feel like they’re knotted up and twisted into hazardous positions. He doesn’t think that...he  _ knows _ that whatever happens, it’s not going to be ok. 

“No, it is," Ray says more firmly, “Look, they’re probably going to put you on pills, but you don’t have to take them. Just make sure you go in to get a refill every month and they won’t suspect anything.”

Mikey snorts and crosses his arms because,  _ really _ Ray?

It takes a minute, but Ray gets it and brings his hand to his head. “Fuck, yeah, you’re right. They’ll obviously know something is up when you show up and won’t talk.”

Mikey nods, feeling his eyes grow hot and he’s just so sick of being afraid. Tired of crying and wanting to just curl up in a ball where no one will notice him. 

Ray leans in and kisses his forehead. “I’m not going to let them take you,” he promises, and it runs a shiver down Mikey’s back just to know that it’s an option. They could come and take Mikey if they thought he was a problem. If the Dracs that saw him the other night found his face on one of the cameras. If they traced him back to his department and--

Mikey looks up at Ray with wide eyes. 

“What?” Ray asks urgently, “Mikey, I--shit, I know you can’t, but just--”

He tries. Mikey fucking tries to tell him what happened that night Mikey didn’t come back with a car. He tries to force the words out, tell him that he could have been taken that night. Could have been shot down by the Dracs. He could have never kissed Ray. 

So Mikey kisses him again. Just in case. 

“Mikes,” Ray whispers against his lips, stroking his cheek, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. I’m not--they’re not taking you away from me. I’m not losing anyone again.”

The words are heavy loaded, weighing his heart down to his stomach and all the knots that are making Mikey sick.

Ray pulls back and wipes at Mikey’s eyes then straightens his ID badge. “You should get up to medical before they realize something is wrong. Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rant that you can totally skip because it has nothing to do with the story:
> 
> If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll know that I’m taking a break from that platform. I love the community aspect of being in fandom, I really do, but I also REALLY hate it. Sometimes it reminds me a lot of high school and trying to find a group of friends to sit with at lunch. Especially when you’re a creator within the fandom, because then it starts to feel like you’re only invited to the table if your content is something they want to engage with. So that started to warp my idea of my worth, and I started paying too close attention to my stats and if anyone was talking about what I’d written. I started comparing myself to others who were receiving more recognition and really questioning my writing capabilities, especially when I noticed errors in my work. And it really got to me because writing stopped being fun. Anyway, I’ll still check my messages since I’m running prompt challenges, but I’m going to be stepping back from interacting more than that. It’s nothing personal, I just need to reset my perspective.


	14. Chapter 14

“You did  _ what _ ?”

Gerard knows that he sounds a bit hysterical and he knows that Mikey is a grown man who can make his own decisions, but Gerard can’t help the way his default setting is always stuck to Protect Mikey Mode. 

Frank shifts uncomfortably, and Gerard watches as Frank realizes that he’s never supposed to come between him and Mikey. Gerard’s prettys sure he’ll never make that mistake again. 

“Look,” Frank says slowly, like he’s trying to think about the right way to explain things, “Pony needed--”

“I don’t care,” Gerard bites off, “You don’t send my brother out to steal fucking cars for you. And you know that, or else you would have told me about it sooner.”

“I know you’ve got this hang up that Mikey can’t do things but--”

“Excuse me?” Gerard bites out. And he won’t really admit that Frank’s hit a nerve that’s spurring more than anger. Because he knows that he babies Mikey more than he should, but he’s always had it in his head that that’s just how they are with each other. They’re all they’ve got. 

Except that’s not really true anymore. Mikey has Ray watching his back and Gerard’s got Frank. And maybe Korse, but he tries not to think too much about that.

“Look, he needs to be an active participant in this fight,” Frank says, like he somehow knows Mikey better than Gerard. But Gerard lets that rattle in his brain for a minute and realizes that’s not really the case. Frank has eyes, and impartial ones. He’s seen the way Mikey’s shoulders are always raised, how he hunches a bit like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “Gerard, you have to let him fight back.”

“Yeah, but look what’s happened,” Gerard whispers, sitting forward on the couch and dropping his head into his hands. 

Ray had swung around to their office and shut the door behind him. Both of Gerard and Frank’s heads snapped up and Ray didn’t even give them a chance to ask a question before he started telling them about Mikey getting sent to the medical department. And when Gerard’s face fell into absolute terror, Ray folded and told him about the cars. 

“We’re going to have to push up the plan,” Gerard whispers, “How soon can you get the bomb done?”

Frank’s sitting on the floor with said bomb in front of him, frowning a bit. “Um…”

“It needs to be tomorrow,” Ray says from the doorway. 

Gerard looks up and watches Ray and Mikey hurry inside and shut the door. Mikey looks shaken up, but not in the way Gerard had thought he might. He’s got his thin arms around himself and his head is drooped a bit lower than normal, but his eyes are hard and determined. It’s because of that look that Gerard doesn’t get up to hug him. 

_ You have to let him fight back _ . 

“Ray, I appreciate your faith in me, but--”

“No, stop and think about it,” Ray says, “What do you think is going to happen when Mikey shows up tomorrow and is still silent?”

Ray’s words hang low over their heads and Gerard suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. There’s not enough time. Not enough time to pull the plan off correctly. They’d have to tell Pony, and Pony will have to get his people in motion quicker. It’s riskier for everyone to rush this, but Gerard doesn’t see another option. All he sees is that exam room. All he feels is the needle going into his neck. All he hears is Frank’s warnings of BL/ind’s plans to wipe clean anyone who won’t comply. And he won’t let that happen to Mikey. Won’t let them push him into speaking when he’s not ready. Can’t let Mikey throw himself over that edge when they won’t be able to be his safety net. 

He can’t imagine the fallout of that happening, so he makes the decision not to let it be an option. 

“Tomorrow then,” Gerard agrees, looking over at Frank. 

Frank’s staring back, eyes heavy and Gerard feels the weight of the other issue presenting itself. Because it’s not just that this plan is risky. Not just that they’ll be rushing to get everyone out before they were ready. 

“We haven’t had time to get them out,” Gerard whispers. 

Frank’s face hardens, and he sees how Frank’s falling behind his eyes. How his body tenses like he’s preparing for a blow that’s not going to happen. At least not yet. 

“I’m going to go talk to Pony,” Frank says, getting up, “Don’t fucking touch any of that. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Gerard gets up from the couch to go to him, but Frank shakes his head and hurries out of the apartment. Gerard’s hand hovers in the air, then he lets it drop to his side before thinking better and grabbing his keys. 

*

“Gerard?” Korse asks, head cocked to the side in confusion as they open the door. 

Gerard pushes in and shuts the door for Korse before turning around and kissing them. It’s more aggressive than how Gerard usually kisses, especially with Korse. Frank always pulls out the desperation in Gerard, but Korse has this way of coaxing the desire from Gerard. They take their time with him like they're cherishing him, savoring him. 

And Gerard knows that he should savor this, that he’s never going to get this again, but he just can’t slow his anguished mouth. 

Korse doesn’t slow him down like Gerard thought they would. They just nod, as if they know what’s going on and start to unbuckle Gerard’s pants. They tug them down the curve of Gerard’s ass then turns him around quickly.

Gerard is dizzy from it and the lack of Korse’s lips on his. But he’s being pushed up against the door, Korse pulling Gerard’s hands up and pressing them to the door on either side of his face. “Is this what you need?” Korse purrs against his ear, their hands squeezing around Gerard’s wrists. 

Gerard tries to say yes, but all that comes out is a needy whimper. Korse chuckles fondly and presses gentle kisses against the back of Gerard’s neck. He doesn’t want to be soothed though, at least not yet. He wants to feel everything with this person. Wants to welcome that dull blade of ‘not enough time’ cutting into his heart. To feel that burn of ‘could have beens’ in his throat, and the visions of the happy ending they’ll never get blur across his eyes like hot tears.

“Don’t tell me,” Korse demands in his ear, “Don’t tell me what’s going to happen. I don’t want to know if this is the last time I’ll see you.”

And then they're fucking him. They push Gerard’s feet further apart with one of their thick boots, spreading him more and gripping his hips with bruising force. Gerard knows they're marking him, wanting to paint color across Gerard’s skin like the demented artist they've been too stifled to be. Gerard wants them to break down, just this last time, he wants them to shed that last shred of BL/ind for him. He wants to see Korse for all they truly are, wants to feel it boil in his chest and pretend it’s love. 

Korse comes before Gerard, wrapping their arms around him and squeezing tight like they're going to absorb him. And Gerard’s shaking like he’s the one who’s just came, Korse stroking his hips and whispering nonsense into his ear. 

They pull out and Gerard whines at the empty feeling, feeling more hollow than he ever has. Feels like Korse’s created a void inside of him and Gerard’s not sure he’ll ever feel whole again. Knows that after tonight, his heart is going to be missing some pieces. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Korse whispers, shifting them and moving Gerard gently to the floor.

The floor is cold against his ass, but he’s sure that’s not why he’s shivering. Korse slips down to their knees in front of him and moves so that they're kneeling between Gerard’s thighs. Gerard rocks his hips up, as if Korse’s attention isn’t already on Gerard’s straining cock. 

Korse makes an amused noise in the back of their throat before leaning down to take Gerard in their mouth. They don't do anything fancy, just swallow around Gerard until Gerard feels the head of his cock hit the back of Korse’s throat. 

But just as Gerard starts to feel the hot tightness start to pull at his belly, Korse pulls off Gerard’s cock and kisses down to where their come is still leaking out. Gerard’s babbling at this point, trying to say no and yes at the same time, but none of that comes out over the powerful want wrecking his body. 

He feels Korse’s lips press against him then the suction of Korse sucking him, and it’s just the right amount of gross and dirty that fucking does it for him. “Use your fingers,” Gerard begs, his voice coming out strangled. 

Korse complies, hooking their thumbs in him and spreading him open before diving their tongue inside. Gerard’s still sore, but he’s loose and slick with Korse’s come that it feels like the perfect amount of hurt and pleasure. 

When Gerard comes, it’s not sudden and powerful. It slips over him gently, coaxing him into that state of bliss before drowning him in the intensity of it. Korse kisses his shaking thighs, strokes his hips as Gerard feels his stomach grow hot and sticky. “That’s it,” Korse murmurs, “Just like that.”

When Korse’s apartment comes back into focus, Korse takes off their shirt and uses it to clean up Gerard the best they can. “Do you have time to take a bath with me?”

The vulnerability there leaves Gerard breathless, and he wants to say yes, but he also knows he needs to get back to plan out how they’re going to make tomorrow work. “Shower?” Gerard amends. 

Korse nods and takes Gerard’s hand, helping him off the floor before taking him into their small bathroom. Gerard doesn’t say anything as the room fills with steam, only steps into the stall when Korse pulls on his hand. 

He traces over Korse’s face as they work the shampoo into Gerard’s hair. He doesn’t want to forget the pinkness on their cheeks, flushed from the heat of the shower. Doesn’t want to forget the way their eyes shine like stars as the water turns their eyelashes into points. Their lips are red and swollen, their bottom lip's tucked under their teeth like they're in deep concentration. 

“What are you thinking about?” Gerard wonders out loud. 

Korse coaxes Gerard’s head back under the stream so they can rinse the suds out. “How I’m glad I didn’t take my pills tonight.”

Gerard lifts his head and reaches out to cup their cheek. “Come--”

“Don’t,” Korse cuts him off, “I can’t, and you know why.”

Gerard shakes his head and leans forward to press his lips against Korse’s heart. “I lov--”

“Don’t,” Korse says again, their voice breaking this time. 

“What am I allowed to say?” Gerard demands, his own voice shaking now. 

“That you won’t forget me,” they say, their accent thick like they've slipped into their old life if only for a moment. 

“I would never,” Gerard promises, kissing their chest again. 

“I mean like this,” Korse amends, “Promise you won’t forget who I was with you.”

*

Mikey’s hiding out on the balcony, chain smoking. 

He knows that Ray is worried about him, and he’s grateful that Ray knows him well enough to give him space to process everything he’s feeling. 

Because he feels sick. 

And he did throw up when he got outside, had staggered and leaned over the railing. He really hopes no one was out for a walk. But he still feels shaky, feels his heart pounding in his chest. 

This is all his fault. If he had just spoken to his supervisor that first day, if he’d kept an eye out for Dracs when he was in that garage, if he’d just been braver. But he’s not, he’s Mikey. And he’ll have moments where he’s angry enough to forget how much of a coward he is, but it’s not the same as bravery. He’s weak, holding up the rest of the group and even putting them in danger. 

Because they’re having to rush through a plan that they should have had weeks to perfect. Frank should have had longer to work on the bomb instead of rushing through it tonight. Gerard should have had longer with Korse than trying to jam a relationship into one last night. 

When Gerard had come back, his hair was wet and hanging in his grim expression. Frank had looked up from what he was working on and frowned. Gerard looked at Mikey first, then at Frank and shook his head before going to sit next to Frank. “What do you need me to do?”

And Pony had come by, walking everyone through what they needed to do tomorrow. Mikey had tried to listen, but his heart was drowning out whatever Pony was telling him. He knew that he just had to stick by Ray and things would be alright. He just had to--

“Hey,” Gerard whispers, coming out onto the balcony. “Can’t sleep either?”

Mikey hadn’t even noticed that it was that late. Now he’s sure that Ray is sitting up in bed worried about him.

Mikey’s sitting against the railing, the iron bars digging into his back. Gerard sits next to him and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it, and then handing it off to Mikey. Mikey takes it and waits for Gerard to light another for himself. 

“Are you scared?” Gerard asks, but it’s in a tone that Mikey knows is Gerard’s way of trying not to freak out. 

Mikey reaches over and squeezes his hand. 

“It’s just the unknown, right?” Gerard whispers, squeezing back. 

They hadn’t really talked about it. What the zones were going to be like once they got out there. Mikey had watched Gerard hover in his bedroom, eyes traveling over the small amount of belongings they still had from their old life. Mikey had done the same thing. Had taken inventory to see what he wanted to bring. There were a couple photographs of him and his friends, the one with him wrapped around Pete. A faded ticket stub of a random show he went to, it wasn’t anything special at the time but now it’s one of the few reminders that he had a life before all of this. And there was that shirt of Pete’s, the bright red one that he’s stopped wearing to bed ever since Ray’s been sliding under the blankets with him. 

He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to drag this old life into their new one, confused at how he’s supposed to morph all these versions of Mikey Way together into who he’s supposed to be. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to start over, and that thought paralyzes him almost more than trying to figure out how Pete fits into this new warped version of himself. 

“Do you remember that time those kids were giving me a hard time at the bus stop?” Gerard asks, taking a drag and pausing in his memories. He grins, “I think I was like eight or something. And they were shoving me around because I was the geeky comic book nerd.”

Mikey frowns, remembering but not sure why Gerard is bringing this up now. 

“And then you just came flying down the street on that Transformers’ bike that mom got you for your birthday,” Gerard laughs, “Do you remember that? It was bright blue and it, fuck, what was on it?”

It had flames, Mikey thinks, shaking his head and laughing a bit now too. 

“Oh, flames!” Gerard says, “I was pretty jealous of that bike, but you were so fucking small. And you just came out of nowhere and ran into them, then just started kicking their asses.”

Gerard is laughing fully now, eyes crinkling in genuine happiness. Mikey wishes they could go back to then. To when Mikey was brave and Gerard was proud of him. 

“You were always so fearless,” Gerard says, laughter still coating his voice. He takes another drag then shrugs, “But you’re still fearless.”

Mikey rolls his eyes. 

“No,” Gerard says, squeezing his hand again, “You are. Mikes, listen to me.”   
  
Mikey doesn’t want to. Because he’s seen a lot of movies in his life, a lot of them where there’s this big battle at the end and he knows what saying goodbye sounds like. He shakes his head. 

“Mikey,” Gerard says, reaching out and holding his head still between his hands. Mikey wants to be childish and close his eyes, just so he doesn’t see the determined look on Gerard’s face. So he doesn’t have to see how wide his eyes are like he’s scared. Mikey focuses on the warmth coming off the cigarette that Gerard is still holding next to his face instead of Gerard saying, “When it comes down to protecting the people you love, you’re the bravest person I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments on the last chapter, especially the ones replying to my note. I appreciate it. 
> 
> Alright, we're gearing up for the big showdown! Next chapter Frank and Pony's plan gets put into action.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! I got caught up in school assignments and Halloween challenge fic deadlines.

The plan was simple. 

And Gerard thinks that’s because there really is no plan. 

“Planting a bomb and then running isn’t much of a plan,” Gerard had said when they all huddled around his and Mikey’s kitchen table. 

Pony sighed, their painted pink lips turned downwards. “I know, but the cars that Mikey and Ray have been stockpiling are going to help. I’ve already gotten the kids to the hideouts. They’ll be waiting for the signal to move.”

“What’s the signal?” Gerard had asked. 

Frank grinned and made an explosion noise, his hands spreading like he was creating shockwaves. 

“Dork,” Gerard said fondly, then caught Mikey’s eyes. 

“Where’s Mikey going?” He asked. 

“With me,” Ray said, “We’re going to be bringing up the rear so there’s no stragglers.”

Gerard really didn’t like the idea of Mikey being the last out, but he kept his lips pressed shut.

_ You have to let him fight back _ .

So he just nodded and asked, “What am I doing?”

Frank’s hand is sweaty in his as they walk to work. On the outside, Frank looks completely composed, maybe even a little bored. But Gerard knows he’s freaking out. And it’s not even about getting caught, though that’s on all of their minds, but Gerard thinks it’s the change. The same change that Gerard and Mikey had been talking about. This is the life they’ve grown accustomed to, and he wonders if there’s a comfort in being angry. In being rebellious and fighting back, but he also wonders if Frank’s worried about who he’ll become once they get out. 

Because Frank hasn’t told Gerard much about his life before the bombs dropped. He doesn’t give him stories about his family, doesn’t carry around photos of his friends, doesn’t even talk about what he was like as a kid. If Gerard was fucking dense, and he is sometimes, he’d think all Frank was and could be was a rebel. He was angry and destructive, and he knows that Frank’s worried about what that’ll turn into when he has nothing to be angry and destructive towards. 

“We’re leaving at lunch,” Frank reminds him as they get into the elevator. 

Gerard stares up at the digital screen counting up the floors. “Did you say goodbye to them?’

“Don’t.”

Gerard squares his jaw, but doesn’t respond. He went to bed last night with the feeling of Korse’s hands still clasped around his hips. And Frank had stared at the bruises this morning while they were in the shower. But he hadn’t said anything about them, just squeezed shampoo in his hand and lathered up Gerard’s hair. 

He wanted to tell him that Korse had already done that for him last night, but it didn’t feel right. But it didn’t feel like Frank was washing away Korse either, so he just stayed silent and leaned into Frank’s touch. 

“I wish I was doing more than driving the getaway car,” Gerard says when they get into their office. 

Frank shoots him an amused look. “No you don’t. You’re already scared shitless you’re going to mess that up.”

It was true. He kept asking Pony how he’d know what car it was, but Pony just traded a look with Mikey and said, “You’ll know.”

“Tell me what you’re doing again?” Gerard asks, because it sounded too fucking risky the first time Frank had said it last night. 

Frank rolls his eyes. “At lunch I’ll head over to Tower E. You go to the garage and grab the car and meet me there, then we’ll head off to meet the others at the tunnels.”

Gerard looks up at the clock. “Can you distract me until then?”

“Did I ever tell you my parents are Dracs?” Frank asks, and it’s definitely not the way Gerard thought Frank would want to distract him. He was thinking more along the lines of something that didn’t require pants. 

“Um, no,” Gerard sputters.

Frank won’t meet his eyes, but Gerard suspects he’d never be able to either if he had to talk about this. “They were part of the first wave of rebels,” Franks starts, “They were against fighting in the Helium Wars”--he laughs a little-- “I remember them lighting their draft cards on fire.”

Gerard can’t help but think of the story Korse told him about their parents. About the coffins. 

“I was still a kid, you know?” Frank asks, his voice wavering a bit, “Even though I didn’t want to be treated like one. I told them I could help them fight, but they made me hide. And I was paralyzed when the Dracs came in our house, I was frozen in that stupid fucking closet and I could hear them getting dragged away.”

“Frank--”

“--There’s only one reason why they let you live,” Frank says, “If they don’t ghost you on sight, then they’re taking you to turn you into Dracs.”

“Turn you into Dracs?”

Frank laughs without humor. “Yeah, Korse told me.”

Ice works its way up Gerard’s spine. “How--”

“I get that you want to get them out of here. And trust me, there’s nothing I want more than to believe they're really on our side. I  _ wish _ that I could trust them enough to risk it, but I don’t. Because they were there when they turned my parents. They told me, they  _ watched _ ,” Frank says, gripping his hands into fists. 

Gerard reaches out to him, but then thinks better of it. Because Frank is worse than a land mine when he’s like this. “They didn’t have a choice.”

“They did,” Frank says, then wipes at his face and looks up at the clock, “They still do. But they won’t do anything about it.”

“Frank--”

“I love them, you know that?” Frank says like the words are razor blades coming out of his mouth, “I want to hate them, but I just...I can’t.”

Gerard doesn’t push Frank to talk the rest of the morning. Mostly because Gerard doesn’t have anything else to say, doesn’t know what to say really. Because he knew that there was some tension in Frank and Korse’s relationship, but they also moved around each other like they’d been lovers for years. Like Frank wasn’t really at a battle with his feelings for them. 

Gerard could understand that a little. He’s not sure how anyone could resist Korse, the real Korse. And maybe that’s Frank’s problem. He has trouble separating their Korse from BL/ind’s Korse.

“Showtime,” Frank says softly when the clock reaches noon. 

Gerard stands and he feels wobbly, unsteady with walking into a new life. Especially when not every part of his heart is coming with him. “Yeah.”

“C’mere,” Frank whispers, taking Gerard’s hand and pulling him in closer so he can kiss him. It’s something that Gerard doesn’t think belongs here. It’s too colorful for these white, bare walls. Too much feeling for all the zombies walking around. He feels like they’re in one of those dramatic musicals his grandmother used to watch on Saturday afternoons. This kiss is the kind that makes Gerard think he knows what being swept off his feet means. 

“Not goodbye,” Gerard reminds him, when Frank pulls away. 

Frank smiles wistfully then hurries out the office. It’s only then that Gerard even considers that Frank might get caught. Only then that he realizes that kiss could be their last. 

Gerard makes himself move. Makes himself snap into action or he’ll stay frozen in this office with fear. But everyone is counting on him and Frank. There’s kids out there waiting for Frank to detonate the bomb. Mikey is out there waiting for them. 

And he wants to push right past the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit, but his body moves on muscle memory and he wanders in despite it being the middle of the day. There’s Dracs everywhere and a few of them slow what they’re doing to watch him move through the unit. 

He sees Korse standing in front of a few of them, barking orders, then they stop mid sentence and rush to Gerard. 

“I’m sorry, I--”

Korse grabs his arm and tugs him to their office, shutting and locking the door. “What are you doing?”

“I know I said goodbye last night but--”

“Gerard, you can’t be here,” Korse says, “Whatever Frank’s doing right now, you don’t have time.”

“How do you--”

Korse cups his face and kisses him, slow even when Gerard wants to go fast, to fall apart with them one more time. 

Korse breaks their kiss and says, “I admire your bravery, it’s one of the first things that drew me to you. How you were one of the only ones to look me in the eye.” 

Gerard covers Korse’s hands. “You’re not scary,” and Korse laughs, kisses him again and then sighs and Gerard feels the tremor in their hands. They hadn’t taken the new medication yet. “Come with us.” 

Korse shakes their head, “I’m not brave like you. I can’t face what I’ve done.” 

“I’ll help you. Frank and I will--” 

“You better go before you run out of time,” Korse whispers. 

Gerard wants to push, to find out how much Korse knows. And not because he’s afraid Korse will betray them. He wants to know if they've known all this time. But it’s not the time, it’s not important at the moment. What is important is, “I’ll find you. Even if there’s another war and the world goes up in flames,” Gerard whispers, gripping Korse’s hands, “Even if they drop more bombs and the air is nothing but ash and the sun goes black.” 

He leans in to kiss them again, but then Gerard thinks better of it and tears himself way. He can still feel Korse’s breath on his face as he turns the knob, half hoping that Korse would stop him. And he wonders if he’d give everything up for them. Wonders if he’d be strong enough to still walk out of the office if Korse asked him to stay. 

And he thinks that maybe he loves Korse just that bit more when Korse stays silent. 

Gerard doesn’t let himself cry like he wants to as he walks through the unit and hurries to the elevator. Doesn’t even think about how broken Korse had looked as he strides through the lobby and out the front doors. 

“How the fuck will I know what car it is?” He mutters, running through the parking garage. He scans over the parked cars and nothing stands out. “This is so fucking stupid, we’re going to--” but then he stops when he sees it. 

And then he breaks out laughing, the kind of laughter that would make people think he was crazy. Because there she is. Like a fucking beacon calling his name. 

It’s a Trans Am, the kind that him and Mikey used to see on tv back when they were kids. On the hood of the car is the spider that Gerard had doodled months ago. The one that he had known Mikey took, but he never thought anything of it. But it matters now. 

He was never someone who really got into cars. He always had pieces of shit cars that just got him from point A to point B, but this car feels like home when he slides into the driver’s seat. The steering wheel feels like a long lost friend and when he looks in the rearview mirror, he swears he can see Mikey looking back at him. 

He turns the key and brings the car quickly around the towers until he’s pulling up to Tower E. Frank is rushing out the door as he hits the break long enough for Frank to get in. 

Gerard circles back around to the main building, glancing up where the windows are up high by the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit and wondering if Korse is up there watching. 

“I asked them to come with us too,” Frank whispers. 

Gerard is still looking up, unable to respond, so Frank says, “Hit the gas, babe.” 

Gerard doesn’t think about it, just presses the pedal to the floor and peels out of there. He’s about halfway down the street when the bomb goes off and Gerard’s heart runs cold. 

No turning back now.

They get to the tunnels and see cars coming up around them. Colorful cars, painted in the same handmade fashion that his is. And it’s sort of beautiful to see a mob of colors all at once like that, like a collage of rebellion. It’s jarring too. To see all these tones and shades he’s almost forgotten about in the world of grey he’s been living in. 

Gerard looks in his rearview mirror and sees more cars following, then the white bikes. 

Dracs. 

“Fuck,” Gerard hisses, “We didn’t get enough time.” 

Frank turns in his seat and says, “Drive Gee, drive.” 

Gerard looks back behind him, looking for a sign that Mikey’s right behind them, trying to feel him near. “Mikey?”

“He’ll make it,” Frank promises, reaching out to put a hand on his thigh, “He’s with Ray and Pony. They’ll look out for him.”

*

“They’re not going to make it,” Ray breathes, looking in the rearview and seeing the same thing Mikey is looking at. The Dracs are going to catch up to them. 

Mikey leans out the window and to see some of the kids already getting out of the tunnels. But there’s still a large group of them that aren’t going to make it if they don’t get the Dracs off their tail. He hesitates before leaning back into the car, scanning the crowd for a spider, but Ray tugs him back in once a blast nearly gets him. 

“They’re not shooting stunners,” Ray mutters. 

Mikey turns behind him and meets his eyes with Pony’s. Up until now, Pony has always worn a brave face, has been their leader in all of this. But right now, they looks so young, like they’re just a kid too and Mikey wonders when they all thought they had grown up enough to deal with this. 

Mikey slides into Ray as he cuts the wheel sharply and they drift until Ray slams on the brakes, creating a roadblock between the Dracs and the kids. Pony reaches under the seat and tosses up rayguns for each of them. Mikey takes his without really thinking about it until Ray and Pony get out of the car and start firing at the Dracs. 

The gun doesn’t feel as heavy as he thought it would. It feels light, too light for the heaviness it brings in taking someone’s life. 

“I don’t want to kill,” Pete had whispered on the phone. 

“Then don’t,” Mikey told him, “You don’t have to do what they want you to. You don’t have to--”

“Mikey,” Pete interrupted him, “Would you still love me if I did?”

And he hadn’t understood then, hadn’t realized that things would get so blurred that good guys and bad guys didn’t really exist. There was life, and then there was death. And both sides were stealing lives. This was so much more complex than pointing out the evil villain in a cartoon. 

Because with the gun in his hand, he feels like the bad guy. And he understands why Pete asked him that question. 

Mikey propels himself out of the car and raises his arm to shoot, but he just can’t. He watches his arm shake, sees the gun quiver in the air. 

There’s sparks everywhere, moving in the air around him and missing him by centimeters at times. It almost looks like sparkles in the air. Like that time Gerard took him out to watch fireworks at the state fair when he was a kid. And he thinks, for a moment, that it’s sort of beautiful in its own sick way. 

He turns his head to watch more cars escape through the tunnels, they’re almost out. But when he turns his head, he’s standing alone by the car. Ray and Pony have disappeared and he can’t see past the dust that’s been kicked up or the smoke from too many ray guns going off at the same time. He ducks down by the car, terrified and not sure what he’s supposed to do. 

A Drac comes towards Mikey, but he’s shot down and lands right at Mikey’s feet. His head is turned towards Mikey, his mask twisted and revealing the chin. A person, Mikey reminds himself. It’s hard to remember that they were people with the masks on, but Mikey reaches out and feels the still warm flesh. His fingers curl around the mask and when he pulls it off, he nearly faints. 

Alex. 

They never told them what happens to the people they take. Never told them how Dracs were made. But, Mikey should have put it together. Though maybe he never wanted to think like that. Didn’t want to believe that they turned their rebels into soldiers. Dressed them up and sent them out to kill and torment the very side they had tried to protect. Make them fight against their friends and families. Make them die by their hands. 

Mikey feels a scream bubbling on his lips but he’s beaten by Ray. Mikey stands and searches the crowd, but he can’t see him. 

_ When it comes down to protecting the people you love, you’re the bravest person I know. _

Mikey grips the gun and runs towards the sound of Ray’s screams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A group of us are doing a fic exchange to celebrate winter and the holidays. If you're a writer, I'd love for you to join us! This challenge is open to all of bandom, pairings, and ratings; however, it does require you to be 18+. If you're interested, sign up [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HaveYourselfAMerryLittleFicExchange/profile). Message me @throwupsparkles on Tumblr or @throwupsparkle on Twitter if you have any questions!


	16. Author's Note

If you don't know, an [article](https://www.mondo2000.com/2020/10/26/grant-morrison-surveys-the-situation-in-the-age-of-horus/) came out that Grant Morrison identifies as nonbinary and has [confirmed](https://www.cbr.com/the-green-lantern-grant-morrison-non-binary/) that they prefer they/them pronouns. And because this fic is an origin story and blurs RPF and Killjoy characters, I'm treating Korse's character in this fic as I would Grant's in a RPF fic. So, I wanted to let you all know that I will be taking a break from updates while I rework this fic to honor Grant's preferred pronouns as well as wait to see if Grant makes a personal statement so I know how to best move forward. 

Thanks for being understanding, 

Throwupsparkles


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me awhile, but we finally got an edited version of this fic and a new update! Yay!
> 
> I added a note at the beginning of this fic, but I'm going to say it here as well, if you see any errors where I messed up Korse's pronouns, please let me know. Editing this fic in it's entirety was a lot and I'm sure I might have missed something thing. BIG thank you to [Chieana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chieana/pseuds/Chieana) for helping out on the last few chapters!
> 
> And thank you to those who have stuck around and waited for this update. You all are the best <3

The first thing Gerard does when he pulls up to the mess of cars parked together in the middle of the fucking desert is search for Mikey. 

Frank hangs back, and Gerard might love him just that bit more for knowing that Gerard needs to find his brother. He watches with a twisted stomach as kids get out of cars and embrace one another, as families are gathered, lovers kiss, and everyone becomes accounted for but his little brother. 

Frank catches up with him. “Their car hasn’t come through yet.”

Gerard feels like he’s going to pass out, but Frank holds him up. “Easy, I know. Ok? Let’s give them some time, maybe they had to find another way out, yeah? Just breathe.”

Breathe. Yeah, that thing that’s supposed to be automatic. Except it sort of feels like all his organs are shutting down with the knowledge that his brother might be hurt. But Frank’s eyes are staring at him like he expects an answer, so Gerard manages a, “yeah.”

Frank squeezes his hand. “Let’s go check out where we are, get our barings.”

Gerard follows Frank almost on autopilot. He feels like he’s checked out, but he tries to get himself to care about the fact that they’re parked outside this run down diner. The frame has been rusted over one too many times and it honestly looks like it’s going to fall right on top of them at any moment. And the sand out here, it doesn’t look like sand from the beach or from the time he spent in the desert with his grandma that one summer. It’s duochrome with metallic bits from buildings that used to stand tall in this very spot, parts of chipped paint from cars that would have littered the roads here, parts of toy dolls, scraps of someone’s homecoming dress. The sand is a crumbled memory of what they’ve all lost. 

The kids that run around don’t know of a life beyond the bombs. They’re playing on top of the world that Gerard grew up in, playing in it’s ashes without knowing any better. 

Frank keeps tugging him until they get inside the diner where there’s a man in a wheelchair talking to a group of those that came in on the first wave. 

“...life you knew is gone. And that starts with your names. It’s not safe to carry anything that you brought with you. Especially if you get nabbed by a Drac. Find something that sticks, make it your new identity,” he says. 

Gerard walks around the crowd, leaving Frank to listen to the rest of the welcome message like they’re at a fucking amusment park or something. Gerard pokes back through the main room and into what he assumes used to be the kitchen back in the day. It’s mostly turned into a storage room from what Gerard can tell. 

There’s a large stockpile of canned food, a lot of it looking like beans or dog food. Gerard’s not really sure which one he’d rather prefer. There’s bins of random artifacts from the life Gerard used to know. Old CD players and stacks and stacks of CDs. There’s a pair of roller skates. Books with the covers ripped off and pages falling out. Random articles of clothing. Action figures with the faces melted off. Mardi Gras beads. Boxes of old hair dye. A feathered boa. A mask. And a few tubs of paint. 

Gerard grins a little at the mask, thinking back to the one that Pony had shown him. He takes it and a bottle of yellow paint, carrying them over to the sink that he’s sure doesn’t still work. Still, he rather pour the paint over something with a drain than just on the floor. He’s not that much of an asshole. 

He pours the yellow paint over the mask, using his fingers to smear it around to coat it. Then he pokes around the paint bottles again and finds blue and black, making shapes into the mask like he’s back in art school. Only it feels more like the time he was making crafts back in rehab. He feels unhinged like that, just trying to keep his hands moving so he doesn’t absolutely lose it. 

He understands why Mikey screamed that day now. Understands why he’d never want to speak again. Because if he never gets to speak to his brother again, he’s not sure he wants his voice either. 

“Gee?”

Gerard doesn’t realize he’s crying until he looks behind him and sees Frank all blurry. Gerard blinks and feels the tears slip down his face, hot and heavy with devastation. 

He’s lost so much in such a short period of time. Korse. His life. Mikey. 

“Shh,” Frank whispers even though Gerard isn’t saying anything. Frank’s in his space then, and it sorta scares Gerard how much he wants to lash out and hit him. This is all  _ his _ fault. If he’d never had shown Gerard the blueprints, if he’d never make Gerard part of this plan then, then…

“I need to find Mikey,” Gerard says. 

“I know, baby,” Frank says, grabbing Gerard’s hands and using his shirt to clean the paint off. Gerard watches as his hands are cleared of the color and go back to the clean, starkness of the life they just ran from. 

*

Mikey isn’t sure he’s ever been anywhere this dark before. 

He can’t even see the hand he’s holding out in front of his face. Or, at least, he  _ thinks _ he’s holding it out in front of his face. He can’t really figure out depth in here and he brings his hand up to his face, traces his features to remind himself  _ yes, you’re still alive _ .

He doesn’t remember how he got wherever it is he is. He’s sure he got taken, but he’s not exactly sure where. Or why they’re just keeping him in this dark room. 

He reaches out and starts walking until his hands reach metal bars. He’s in a cage, a cell. He walks around the perimeter, trying to gauge the size. It’s small, like if he laid down, he’d probably be able to touch all the sides of the cell if he spread out his limbs like a starfish. 

He sinks down to his knees and runs his hands over the floor, it’s cement. Something hard but really smooth, though not painted. It’s unfinished. 

And he’s not exactly sure how any of this will help him, but he thinks that he should have some sort of barings. That maybe he just needs to know what the fuck is going on. At least part of the way. 

_ Gerard will find you. _

Mikey’s lost a lot of things in his life, but his faith in his brother is not one of them. 

*

Gerard rushes to his feet when he hears tires over gravel. 

They’d been stretched out in one of the booths, Frank all but practically pinning him down to try and get Gerard to sleep. Most people kept moving after they heard what Dr. Death Defying had to say, thinking it was best to keep on the road. Motorbabies, is what the Doc called them. Gerard felt dizzy with all the slang filling his ears, the instructions about this world, the rules, things that Gerard’s already forgotten already. 

He almost wishes he never left Battery City. At least he knew the rules there. He knew what’d get him killed there. 

His legs are shaky as they carry him outside. Under the dark sky, there are no stars. Just smears of radiation that glow from all the toxins still trapped in the atmosphere, chemicals mixing together in a twisted romance. Something that makes Gerard feel a little more at home. 

He nearly falls to his knees and thanks the God he stopped believing a long time ago when he sees Pony stepping out of the car, then Ray. Gerard runs to them, but then Ray grabs his shoulders and pulls him into a hug.    


Gerard hugs him back, thinking that Ray is just glad to be out of the city. That he’s relieved and he needs to see another familiar face. But then he feels the shake in his shoulders and Gerard rips away from him. 

“Where’s my brother?” Gerard demands. 

“Gerard,” Pony starts, but then stops and looks away. 

Gerard chokes on a sob and he feels Frank pulling him up, keeping him up on his feet. “Hey, baby, Gee, stop.”

“They’ve got him,” Ray whispers, “He just...he  _ threw  _ himself at them, he…”

Gerard knows, in the back of his mind, that Ray is hurting too. That Mikey was something to him. But Mikey...there’s something carnal in Gerard’s heart that wants to rip Ray limb from limb for not protecting Mikey. For putting him out there stealing cars, for not sending Mikey to be in Gerard’s car, for not grabbing him and wrapping him in fucking bubble wrap or something instead of letting him fight off Dracs. 

“I’m sorry,” Ray says, softly, and utterly broken. It’s what makes Gerard snap and he shoves at Ray,  _ hard _ . And Ray just takes it, his face crumbles like he thinks he deserves it and he doesn’t fight back. Which just pisses Gerard off more and he shoves him again until Frank grabs him by his upper arms and restrains him. 

Gerard whips around and starts swinging at Frank. Frank lets him get a hit in, his knuckles hitting Frank’s jaw before Frank’s got him to the ground and his hands pinned in the dirt. Gerard squirms in it, feeling the sharpness of rocks dig into his back. 

“Stop it,” Frank grits.

“Let me up,” Gerard bites out. 

Frank shakes his head. “Not till you calm down.”

“And you think I’m going to do that in the dirt?”

“You’re not hitting Ray again.”

“I wasn’t--” Gerard lets his head fall back and hit the ground and he closes his eyes. He’s being an asshole to the only people he’s got. The only people who give a damn about Mikey enough to help him get him back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“I know you are,” Frank says in as calm as a voice that he can probably muster, but Gerard still hears it wobble. He moves one of his hands from Gerard’s wrists and wipes under Gerard’s eyes, smearing dirt on his cheeks and Gerard sorta feels soothed by that. “Lets get Pony and Ray inside, get them situated and then we can talk about what we’re going to do about Mikey.”

Gerard nods slowly, feeling the adrenaline leak out of him and make him feel heavy and sunken into the dirt. Frank eyes him as he gets up, like he’s afraid Gerard is going to attack someone as soon as he’s free. But once he realizes that Gerard’s worked it out of his system, he reaches down and helps Gerard up to his feet. 

Gerard eyes Ray guiltily and he wants to hug him, but it's probably not the best thing to do right now. Even if Ray would accept the hug with open arms, it wouldn’t feel right.

Maybe not until they get Mikey back and Gerard can put this day behind him. 

Frank leads them inside and Pony doesn’t look like they really need to get settled in. They walk around like they know everything already, pulling out cans of food like they’re the one who put it there and Gerard wonders if maybe they are. Maybe this is their base, but he suspects that’s not a question he’s allowed to ask. 

Ray eyes everything with the same daze that Gerard suspects he had. He takes the can from Pony but doesn’t open it and stares off into the distance as Pony chats with the Doc and tries to bring Ray into it from time to time. Eventually it seems like the Doc is ready to call it a night, now that all but one have been accounted for and Gerard wonders if he’d call that a successful mission. How many of these have gone bad before in the past?

“I saw ray guns in the back,” Gerard says quietly, in case the Doc doesn’t really approve of them rummaging through the supplies in the back. 

“Ok,” Frank says, “We’ll get a team together in the morning to--”

“No, now,” Gerard grits. 

“Gee, you can’t leave at night, it’s too dangerous, you heard what Dr. D said.”

He really didn’t, but Gerard isn’t sure that’s the point. He just squares his shoulders and starts for the back room where he saw all the supplies. Frank grabs his wrists and pulls him back. 

“Gerard…”

Gerard shakes his head, “It’s  _ Mikey _ .” 

“And they’re going to use him to lure you out,” Frank says gently, “They’re not going to hurt him, they want you to come out for him. They know it was us who planted the bomb. They want us to come back to the city.” 

Gerard glares at him. “This was for him. I’m not going to leave him there.” 

“I know you’re not, but just wait. Come up with a plan and--” 

“Another plan? Because this one worked out  _ so  _ well,” Gerard snaps.

Frank scoffs and gives Gerard a little shove. And  _ there’s _ the hothead man that Gerard remembers from inside BL/ind. “What? You think you’re going to go into S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W on your own and get him out?” 

Gerard clenches his jaw. “I won’t be alone.” 

Frank looks like he just got slapped. “Gee, Korse’s going to be...they had no reason not to take the drugs now. If they got away from the blast, they’re...you know they have to so that they can...Gerard, they’re BL/ind’s assassin. They’re going to make Korse--” 

“Korse won’t turn on us,” Gerard cuts him off, “God, did you even--” 

“Don’t fucking finish that sentence, don’t you dare,” Frank grits out, and for a moment Gerard thinks Frank is going to deck him in the face. Gerard would welcome it, would welcome anything that would make him feel something other than this deep rooted sadness over the people he’s lost today. 

“I just need--” Gerard chokes on the next word because he doesn’t know what he needs. Too much. He needs to be back home in Jersey wondering what classes he should sign up for. He needs to see his fucking mom and feel her manicured nails run through his hair. He needs to crawl into Mikey’s bed and feel that he’s alive and safe, that he’s dreaming instead of having nightmares. He needs Korse, needs their hands on him so that  _ he _ feels alive. 

Frank pulls on Gerard’s wrist until he’s got him back to the booth they had been laying in before Ray and Pony arrived. “You need to sleep,” Frank says softly, giving him a gentle shove so that he lays back onto the cushioned seat. 

Gerard knows he’s not going to sleep. 

He’s going to get Mikey back tonight.

*

Gerard’s got the yellow mask on, the paint hasn’t fully dried all the way and he can feel wetness mixing with the dirt that’s still on his cheekbones. 

He takes a deep breath as he drives through the tunnels, smirking a little at the destroyed guard’s station that the kids took baseball bats too as they soared to the desert. Some of the light in the tunnels are out, others flickering from celebratory raygun missiles that flew through the air. Gerard reaches down to the radio dial and turns it all the way up, but all he hears is static now that he’s back in the city. 

He knows where they’re keeping Mikey because he’s the one who built it. It’s off the main road, though it goes further out to almost the outskirts of the city. Some place easy enough to get Dracs to if there was an emergency, but far enough away out of the public eye that they don’t realize their own people are being kept like animals in cages. 

Gerard didn’t realize they’d have the place up and running this soon, and he’s not exactly sure how he should go about this. He’s hardly even played video games that required him to use a gun. The ray gun sits in the passenger seat like it’s mocking him, like it knows he’s walking into a suicide mission. 

The one thing he has going for him is the fact that he knows how to override all of the security systems. He knows all the nooks and crannies like the back of his hand, he’s worked on nothing but this prison for weeks while Frank worked on their escape plan.

Gerard knows that all the cameras outside are angled a certain way so that it’ll have a good view of anyone coming, except if he comes up to the building from the southeast. It just was one of those blind spots that he felt compelled to create when he was designing the place, a blindspot that apparently Korse hadn’t caught, or a blindspot that they had also felt compelled to have. 

He tries not to dwell on that thought as he pulls up to the building and grabs the raygun. He thinks about tucking it into the small of his back like he remembers seeing people do in the movies, but he thinks that maybe it’s better to have it out in his hand just in case. 

There’s no guards outside, and Gerard wonders how many they managed to take down this afternoon if they’re not sparing any to guard the outside. Gerard hunches down to the ground and looks up at the camera. He can’t really shoot at them or else they’ll know something is up. He either needs to avoid them, or find a way to cut them at the same time so that it looks like there’s a problem with the system. 

He stays close to the sleek cement walls and eyes the cameras as he watches them rotate and sticks to the blindspots. He knows that there isn’t going to be anyone at the doors, that they’re going to be in the security room that’s in a higher, more secure level. If he just gets through the doors and into the cells, he should be good. At least the cells are underground and the guards won’t be able to hear the rayguns. At least he hopes. 

There’s a darker part of him, the part that’s starting to lose its fight, that’s telling him all he needs is to see Mikey. Even if this really is a suicide mission, even if Frank is right and they’re expecting him, he just needs to see Mikey. 

He can die tonight knowing that he didn’t leave Mikey to rot in a prison he built. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next update won't take a month to put out.


	18. Chapter 18

Mikey keeps thinking about what his last words were. 

He can’t help but think about Pete, because he was always great with words. He could make anything sound poetic and mean more than it probably actually did. It’s easy to pretend he’s not in a cage in pitch black darkness, easy to find the warmth of Pete’s bedroom in the middle of summer. Easy to pretend the window is open and each trickle of the breeze slipping into the room carries a mix of freshly cut grass, sticky sweet ice cream, and that honeysuckle bush Pete had in his backyard. 

Sometimes Pete would talk about nothing at all, just let whatever tumble out of his mouth. Things like how he landed some new skateboard trick or how he failed that stupid math test that he should have studied for instead of going to a show. Other times though, Pete would talk about things he wanted to do with his life. How he wanted to be on a stage, that he wanted to reach people and make everyone not feel so alone.

Mikey’s mouth feels dry when he thinks about that. Pete never got to do what he was meant to do. And he wonders if he’s going to die too without ever having even figured out what he’s supposed to do. 

That’s something he almost forgot how to do. How to dream, to think of a future--to even think of anything past the here and now. Because that’s all Mikey’s life had been boiled down to ever since the bombs dropped. He never had the luxury of considering what he could do in five years, never got the chance to even desire things that they all had grown up being told to want. To get married. Have a house. Build a family. Things that withered down to long ago childish dreams. 

And beyond that, dreams that were so personal to Mikey. Things like wanting to play music, or fuck, just wanting to travel and see more than his gloomy Jersey backyard. He had wanted to cross oceans and immerse himself in other cultures. He wanted to see the bright lights of cities he’d only seen on MTV, wanted to walk around in different stores and touch different fabrics, taste other food. He wanted to experience everything that had turned to ash.

He sits up when he hears an echo of a raygun, ricocheting off the metal cells. He tilts his head and listens as it keeps echoing, and it makes him shiver to wonder how big this place he’s in must be then. 

And then he kicks his feet and pushes himself up against the back wall as he hears footsteps. His heart is hammering, he can hear it in his head and he just thinks that it’s so loud. Whoever is coming for him surely can hear his heart giving him away. 

He tells himself that when the cell opens, he can take off running. Even if he doesn’t know where he is and can’t see what direction he’ll be going in, he’s not going to just sit here and let them gun him down. He’s not going to give in. Gerard would fucking kick his ass if Mikey just rolled over and gave up. 

When the footsteps get louder, Mikey raises himself onto the balls of his feet so that he’d be ready to launch himself at whoever is coming for him. Maybe he’d get lucky and he could get their gun, he’d have a better chance of getting out of here if he could--

The door opens and Mikey springs into action. There’s a sharp gasp of surprise and as soon as his wrists are captured by strong hands, dry from the years coated in paint--he knows exactly who it is. 

“Mikey, it’s me,” Gerard whispers, hoisting Mikey up. His hands travel up Mikey’s arms and over his face before brushing over the back of his head like he’s checking for any signs of injury. Mikey reaches out and finds Gerard’s shoulder, squeezing once to let him know he’s ok. At least physically. 

“We need to get going,” Gerard says, his voice hardened and reminding Mikey that he’s not suddenly safe just because Gerard is here now. 

Gerard tugs on his hand and pulls him out of his cell, and Mikey’s head spins a bit when he tries to attempt to figure out how long he’d been imprisoned. His legs feel shaky as Gerard menovers them in the dark quickly. He hears the sound of a door opening, and then Mikey has to shield his eyes at the sudden bright light. 

Gerard crowds him into a corner and lets Mikey blink rapidly to get himself adjusted to being in light again. He looks around and takes in the fact that they’re in another BL/ind building, the stark witness and sleek architecture all too revealing. And then he looks up at Gerard and can’t help but grin a bit. 

He’s wearing a mask that looks a bit like that Mardi Gras mask they were shown as proof of life out in the zones. He’s added his own flair, and it looks like he hadn’t even waited for the paint to dry all the way. There’s yellow paint smudged on the tops of his cheekbones, and Mikey feels like something in his heart sort of clicks into place at seeing his brother wearing something with color again. That he  _ painted _ again. 

“Ready?” Gerard asks, his voice still low. 

Mikey nods and watches the way Gerard moves them quickly and knowingly, able to press them back against the walls or crouch low whenever security cameras scan the area. Mikey thinks they might actually have a chance at getting out of here when they get to the stairs--but then Gerard freezes. 

Mikey can see the front door, and he tugs on Gerard’s hand. 

“I just...Mikey, I need to know what I built up there,” Gerard says, looking up the stairs. 

Mikey feels like yelling at him not to be stupid, but there’s a sick part of him that is also interested in what BL/ind is doing in this place. And a braver part of him, a part that he’s sure is there because of Ray, that wants him to find out so he can make sure they can’t hurt anyone again. 

He follows Gerard up the steps, letting him take the lead since he’s the one with the raygun. They reach the top of the stairs and Gerard quickly draws them into a room, clearly knowing what he’s looking for. 

Except when they step inside, Mikey can see Gerard’s knees wobble as they stare at a cylinder chamber positioned in the middle of the room. 

*

Gerard thinks back to the first time he got the file about this project, how there were instructions to build a room on the top floor that could withstand large amounts of electrical currents. And he thinks about Frank’s warning that BL/ind was building something that could ‘deal with’ those who couldn’t become complacent with the medication anymore.  _ Something that will wipe a person clean so that BL/ind can hardware them the way they want. _

He feels Mikey pull on his arm, his fingertips cold from being underground. Gerard turns and promises, “Just a couple minutes.”

Mikey’s eyes harden, but he nods and takes a step towards the door like he’s keeping watch. 

Gerard goes to the table where he sees files piled up. A lot of it just looks like sketches of earlier versions of whatever is in the middle of this room. He scans the documents quickly, seeing things like  _ memory reprogramming _ and  _ malleable _ and _ personality cleansing _ . Gerard doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he sets those papers down and sees a file labeled “test subject”. 

He opens it and brings a hand up to his mouth to keep from crying out. Because Korse’s name is printed at the top of the page along with photographs of them. The first few look like they were taken at work, Korse walking down a hallway with the angle of the photo looking like it came from a security camera, their work ID photograph, a photo of them leaving the building and walking to the garage. Then they seem to get more personal. There’s a photograph of Korse smiling, so real that Gerard can see the happiness in their eyes. And it makes his head spin at the thought of BL/ind wiping that from Korse forever. Another photograph shows Korse sitting at their desk, the one that Gerard had admired from the bed so many times, knowing that a well loved piece of furniture like that could only belong to a writer, to an artist. 

And Gerard bites down on his knuckles when he reaches the last photograph. The one of Korse holding Gerard in the medical exam room all those weeks ago when Gerard had been detoxing the first time. Gerard had thought that maybe it had all been in his mind, but the photo shows the clear admiration on Korse’s face as they hold Gerard’s face, their thumb pressing against his bottom lip. Gerard closes his eyes and he swears he can still taste them on his lips. 

They’re going to erase any memory they have of him. They’re going to live out the rest of their days without him in the back of their mind, without any knowledge of how much he loves them. And maybe it’s for the best--maybe it would be better for them if they didn’t even know Gerard existed. It would be safer. 

Gerard opens his eyes and sets the folder back down on the table, ignoring the heavy gaze from Mikey. “Yeah, I know,” he says, and pulls himself away from the table. 

The best thing for him to do for Korse is to walk away right now. This can be the last thing he gives them, he can give Korse the bliss of ignorance. 

Mikey opens the door and they turn to go down the stairs when Gerard sees a flash of light graze past him and he pushes Mikey out of the way just as the blast hits the wall where Mikey had been. Gerard turns, raises his gun and hits the Drac in the chest. 

He rushes to the body and pulls the gun out of their still warm hand and presses it into Mikey’s shaking hands. “We’ve got to move, they’ll have heard--”

And then there’s an alarm sounding. 

Fuck. Gerard grips Mikey’s hand and they rush down the stairs only to see the elevator doors open with more Drace raising up their rayguns. Gerard gauges the room and realizes that all their exits are blocked. He holds Mikey’s gaze, trying to push all the emotion bubbling up to his throat in one look. He hopes Mikey gets it, hopes he realizes how proud he is to be his older brother, how he’s a better person because of him, how grateful he is that he didn’t ever have to walk this world alone. 

Mikey grips Gerard’s hand and Gerard swings them around, leaning back against Mikey’s boney back and raises his raygun. For a moment everything seems to be silent, the blasts hitting the walls, the sparks scattering over their heads, the slide of their shoes against the floors--Gerard doesn’t hear any of it. He can hear his breath though, slow and steady despite the fact that he might very well die here. 

Maybe it’s because he’s with his brother, and there’s something so innately comforting about that. Like his body can’t find a reason to worry when he’s with the person who has always had his back. 

And then he feels white hot pain in his right side and he folds over stumbling. He tries to straighten back up because he can’t leave Mikey uncovered. The pain is too bright though, drowning out all his other senses and he knows he’s not going to be able to keep Mikey safe like this. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his keys before reaching back blindly for Mikey’s free hand, pressing the keys against his clammy palm. 

Mikey whips around, and Gerard turns to shoot over his shoulder to cover him. “You have to get out of here,” he says, his balance starting to wobble as the pain overtakes him and he can feel his steps getting sloppy. Mikey tries to hold him up, but it’s hard to maneuver Gerard and keep the shots off them. Gerard keeps trying to shove him away, to push Mikey towards the door. 

He wants to scream at him for being stupid, for being stubborn but he knows that it’s a bit hypocritical since he’d do the exact same thing. He tries to help Mikey, tries to get his body to move the way it needs to, but the pain is too overwhelming to think of anything else. 

Until he feels another set of hands on him. And those hands--he’d feel those anywhere, could recognize them even in the heaviest blanket of agony. Gerard looks up and sees Korse’s anguished face turned towards the Dracs, illuminating with every pull of the trigger. And he can't help but selfishly--stupidly--take the moment to admire their face. The strong jawline, the one that Gerard’s fingertips can still feel. Their eyes, dark and ominous until they smile, letting a little mischief and wonder sparkle in a way that makes Gerard remember Saturday morning cartoons. Their lips, shaped in a grim line that Gerard knows are the source of devoted kisses, that have spoken hushed promises that Gerard doesn’t even let himself dwell on because they seem to only exist in bedrooms.

He finds the strength to hoist himself up against them and press his face into their grey jacket, breathing in because something in the back of his mind is telling him to cherish this moment even though it could very well end in tragedy. Korse smells like raygun residue and the woodsy tea they drink in the morning. The jacket is rough against Gerard’s cheek, and he rubs his sensitive skin against it, feeling the mask lift and fall back over his eyes like Korse is letting his two worlds coexist just for this moment. 

For these last few breaths, he can be free and theirs at the same time. 

He doesn’t know how they get outside, but the fresh air fills Gerard’s lungs even though he can still smell the burn of the blasts strong in his nose. His feet steady with the help of Korse, like their strength is leaking into Gerard and when his hands reach the metal of the Trans Am, he turns and begs, “Come with us.”

Korse shakes their head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Gerard stresses, gripping their hand, “There’s nothing left for you here.”

Korse reaches out and cups his cheek before reaching behind Gerard to open the car door. Gerard is too weak to fight them as they push him down into the driver’s seat. He hears Mikey strap himself in and put the key into the ignition, turning it and bringing the car to life with a mechanical roar. Korse reaches for Gerard’s hand and curls their fingers around the steering wheel. 

“No, I’m not leaving you,” Gerard argues, but his voice is weak and breathy. 

Korse chuckles, like Gerard’s despair is funny to them, and pulls the mask off Gerard’s face. They lean in and Gerard goes to turn for a kiss, but Korse presses their lips against Gerard’s ear. “Hold on tight,” they whisper, squeezing Gerard’s hands around the steering wheel, “And don’t look back.”

And then they’re gone and the car door is slamming shut. 

Mikey beats on the dashboard with his hand, urging Gerard to go. Gerard wants to look into his rearview mirror to see what he knows Korse is doing. He wants to see the final glimpse of them standing in front of a mob of Dracs, holding them back while Gerard and Mikey save themselves. He wants to see that last evidence of bravery, of love, of something that BL/ind hadn’t managed to wipe away. 

But something in him respects Korse’s final wishes and presses on the gas. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, but not sweet at all. Sorry, but I'm sure you all realized this was coming. 
> 
> We have one more chapter and then the epilogue left, the end is near my friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://throwupsparkles.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/throwupsparkle).


End file.
